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cno-inbminor · 3 years ago

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iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

heated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: An (innocent?) conversation about D/s dynamics accidentally leads to you confessing that you think about your childhood best friend while getting off. To your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Erm. This is after he told you that you would be “an awful sub”, btw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; reader is bisexual; smut (fem reader, dry humping, fingering, [tiny bit] m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluffy af; non-idol!AU; F2L; softdom!Jungkook x softbrat!reader; you kind of have a forearm kink and you never let Jungkook have his lovey-dovey moment, whoops

MMA 2020 ‘ON’ Jungkook? Yeah. That one.

“I could never be a sub.”

You clicked rapidly as you spoke, mashing the right button on your mouse. It was quite loud, paired with your mechanical keyboard.

“Why not?”

The music coming from Jeon Jungkook’s smartphone was a rhythm game, nearly as loud as you, since he was grunting angrily at it. It was very obvious when he missed a beat.

“I can’t imagine that being me, you know?”

You, on the other hand, were on your computer, playing with the new items in League of Legends from the latest patch. Using the practice tool, you had loaded up your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, and messed with various builds, trying to find the best combination. So far, Lethality was feeling pretty good.

“Like why would I ever let my pleasure be handled by someone else?” you mused, reading the high damage numbers of each shot. Oh, the fourth shot felt nice. “That sounds stupid.”

Jungkook rolled over on your bed, growling in his throat as the level ended. He restarted it, trying to get a better score. “Maybe people like to let go sometimes. You know, not always be in control.”

You snorted. “I could never trust someone else with my body.”

“You got an alien body or something?”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your outburst. “I didn’t ask if you could be a sub, I just asked what you thought of domination and submission as a dynamic in general.”

You shrugged, trying to see if you could do Baron alone. Welp, you needed lifesteal, of course. “I mean, I’ve tried it in various situations. I was never the sub.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.” Jungkook suddenly sat up, excited that he achieved a higher score. “Look, look. I got ninety-eight.”

You craned your head to look at his phone screen. “Why isn’t it one hundred? You’re a disgrace to this family.”

He bopped you on the nose with his phone. “If I was part of your family, your family would be even more dysfunctional than it is now.”

You rubbed your nose and looked up at him. “How much gel did you use in your hair? You look like a wet dog.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows went up and he touched his long black hair. “It’s not crunchy though.” He grabbed your hand and lowered his head, placing your palm on his slicked back hair. “See?”

You pulled your hand back, staring at your palm. “Still feels weird though. I call sorcery.”

He shrugged, creaking the black leather jacket he was wearing. He wore a black t-shirt under it. The black jeans he had been wearing were on your bed, swapped for the black joggers he kept at your place. You weren’t really sure why he left the jacket on. Maybe he was cold or something. It was pretty cold in your apartment. You were wearing fleece green pajamas with Pikachu all over them.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” you said, gesturing to his jacket.

Jungkook looked down at his chest. “Eh. It’s fine. Saves you money.”

You shrugged, getting up from your chair, leaving the League client open. “You’re only staying a little while, right? Party to go to and all that?”

Jungkook followed you as you left your room. “Told you it was cancelled, so I was just going to sleep over. No reason to go back home.”

You turned around, walking backwards. “When did you say it was cancelled?”

Jungkook raised his dark eyebrows. “Literally when I walked in your apartment.”

“Hah.”

You turned back around and went to your fridge, grabbing an aloe juice. Jungkook went to your water kettle, hunting for hot chocolate among your tea packets.

“You’d make an awful sub anyway,” Jungkook said, returning to the original subject as he filled the kettle with water from your filtered sink faucet. “Like, probably the fucking worst.”

You took a large swig and glared at him. “Alright, first of all, you wouldn’t even–”

“You’re terrible with authority.”

You paused. “Okay, true.”

“You’re angry, twenty-four, seven.”

You walked up to him and slapped him in his very hard pecs. He gestured at his chest, as if to indicate, exhibit A.

“And you’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight.”

“Control freak.”

“That’s–”

Jungkook turned around and placed the kettle on its stand. You swooped in with a Pikachu-themed kitchen towel and wiped the excess water away, scowling. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, brown eyes laughing.

“That’s literally a safety hazard!” you exclaimed, waving the towel at him.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pressed the button to start heating the water. “Haven’t you ever just… not freaked out over every little thing? Done something spontaneous and stupid?”

You placed the kitchen towel back in its proper place. “No, because that would be spontaneous and stupid, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you perfectly fold the towel into three parts and hang it on the rail. He scratched his nose, shaking his head. “You should be more like me.”

“Having the police called on you because you were standing on a lawn chair tooting a party horn at four in the morning?”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up,” Jungkook groaned.

You raised your hands in innocence. “Well, I was the one called to pick you up because you literally couldn’t remember any other number and I was very disturbed on New Year’s Eve, where I should have been peacefully sleeping and not hauling your drunk ass across town.”

Jungkook sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t drink that much again. Jimin made me do shots–”

“You always blame Park Jimin,” you interjected, smiling. “Jimin’s the kind of guy who only wears clothes to take them off.”

“Well, it gets him laid, so I guess it’s working.”

The kettle whistled noisily, cutting through the conversation. You took a sip from your aloe juice as Jungkook grabbed a mug from your cupboard and poured the hot chocolate powder into it.

“You want some milk?”

He looked up. “You have milk?”

You went to the fridge and took out a small carton. “Because you said you were coming.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

That’s how it was with you two. Growing up together was the same conversation over and over of you constantly saying shut up and Jungkook always replying with no. If both your dads hadn’t been such good friends, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate him. Since they were, you were forced to, which turned out to be okay, since it turned out you had similar interests in games and such. It drifted apart a bit when you two entered high school, but you two reconnected once university started.

The dysfunctionality Jungkook was referring to was your two older sisters, who both got pregnant out of wedlock and thus caused a lot of tension between them, your parents, and you, the one who hadn’t actually done that yet. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Jungkook poured half-water and half-milk, stirring it with a silver spoon he found in your drawer. You lived alone, having gotten a full scholarship to be able to pay for tuition, meals, and part of a small apartment. Your parents paid for the rest – another point of strain between you and your sisters. That’s why you kept your grades up and rarely went out.

“When was the last time you fucked a guy?”

You sucked the inside of your cheek. “Dunno. Maybe two years ago.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and took a long sip. “So, only girls, huh?”

You tilted your head and sighed. “They don’t get you pregnant.”

“Neither does a condom.”

“That’s a ninety-eight percent chance, not one hundred.”

He licked the excess off his pink lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, but reconsidered, taking another sip before replying. “You don’t miss dick?”

“I mean, a dildo is a dick.”

Jungkook nearly spat out his hot chocolate. You snatched your Pikachu towel again and threatened him with it. He raised a hand, coughing.

“A dildo is not a dick,” he hacked out. “You insult me.”

“Hmph.” You turned back around and placed the Pikachu towel back in its place, making sure the graphic was perfectly centered.

“You tell your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘Why the fuck would I tell my parents that I fuck girls instead of guys to avoid getting pregnant?”

He shrugged. “Give them peace of mind?”

“You think too highly of the generation before us.”

Jungkook gave you a weird look. “So… you’re just using them?”

“No.” You paused. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not because they’re girls. I guess I haven’t found someone who understands me yet.”

He took a long, noisy sip of hot chocolate. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“No one can understand you if you only fuck once and drop them.”

“Wouldn’t you fucking know,” you replied irritably.

“Now, I fuck multiple times before I realize it’s not going to work out,” Jungkook countered.

You shoved your bottle of aloe juice back into your fridge. Suddenly, you weren’t thirsty anymore.

“Is that the only reason?”

You closed the fridge door.

“Reason for what?”

“Is fear of pregnancy the only reason you fuck girls?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. You spun around, blowing hot air. “I don’t fucking know why I do it, Jungkook. I don’t know why I load up dating apps to only hook up with girls, I don’t know why I don’t try to get into relationships with them, I don’t know what is wrong with me and why I can’t give anyone a chance and I don’t know why you pop up in my head every time I try to fucking masturbate! It is annoying and I do not like it, so I try to get off with someone else!”

Your chest was heaving with exertion and annoyance, hand curled onto a fist and planted on your kitchen counter, glaring at the space past Jungkook’s head, muscle twitching in your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast it didn’t feel real.

Silence.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

And then you turned around, stalking back to your bedroom.

Or would have, if you didn’t hear the clink of the mug touching the kitchen counter and Jungkook grabbing your upper arm, yanking you back, slamming you against his muscular body. You hissed, staring into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Hold on a second.” You watched Jungkook take a deep breath, his toned, tan skin rising and falling. The silver necklace on his collarbones flashed as he breathed. “Just hold on a damn second.”

Your eyes were on the low neckline of his black shirt. It felt weird being close to him. Not that you two haven’t been physically close, because you had. But it had never been like this. Since you realized he wouldn’t leave your mind every time you tried to masturbate. Since you started looking to other people to push him out. Since you were sure that it was not just a passing thought, not just your brain playing tricks on you. And being this close to him now, you understood.

And it scared you.

“You cannot dump all that on me and expect me not to react,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No,” he snapped. He grabbed both your upper arms and shook you violently, making you jerk your head up to blink at him. Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark eyes glaring at you, jaw clenched tightly. “I will not shut up. Why should I shut up? I should shut you up.”

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. Jungkook’s pink lips were on you. You. On your lips, pressed firmly against them, gripping you so tight you were losing feeling in your arms. You tore back, stumbling, touching your lips, shoulders shaking, not sure why your heart was beating out of your chest, not sure why your lips tingled and wanted more, not sure why Jungkook slowly opening his eyes and flickering to you made your knees knock together uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” you sputtered. “You don’t even… what…?”

“I’m kissing you,” he growled, walking up to you and pinning you against the counter. “I’m fucking kissing you because you want me to.”

“I don’t…”

“Just shut up, please.”

And then Jungkook kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you against the kitchen counter, hands coming up and taking you by the waist, pulling you to him and his leather jacket, him and his black shirt, breathing your name into your lips, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him to you, gasping into his mouth. And you wanted to say, no, no, you weren’t supposed to know, but it was too late because you were shoving his leather jacket off, grasping his shoulders, fingers pressing into his hard muscles, sliding down his biceps.

You yanked your head back and his hand came up to grab it back, kissing you more, more, tongue licking your lips, hissing your name, grinding his hips against yours. Your hand came up in between you two, stopping him, stopping him and his insatiable lips.

“You have to s-say–” You moaned, feeling him harden against your fleece pajamas. “You have to say it.”

“Say what?” Jungkook muttered impatiently, kissing your hand, speaking into your palm.

“Say you’re okay with it,” you gritted out as he rolled his crotch into yours.

“Obviously I’m okay with it,” he grumbled. “Why else am I humping you in your kitchen?”

“You said I’m a c-control freak,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Jungkook slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed it, grinding against you.

“You are,” he grunted. “You can’t let go, you can’t enjoy yourself, you can’t even tell me you like me so I can fucking fuck you already, instead of me cancelling my parties so I can spend time laying on your bed and staring at you playing video games wondering when you’re going to fucking notice that I want to bang you.”

“What?” you replied breathlessly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re so busy controlling your own life that you don’t even notice the people around you anymore.”

“What?” you repeated again as Jungkook hoisted you up by your ass and began to walk, forcing you to grab him by the shoulders and stare down his right arm, the fully tattooed one with flowers and script and the tiny circle with angry slits for eyes and a frown on the inside of his elbow, the one Jungkook said was for you and you had slapped him in the chest and told him to shut up.

“Let me take over for once,” he mumbled, placing his chin on your shoulder and nudging you with his head and his non-crispy but still not quite soft dark hair.

“You said I would be an awful sub.”

Jungkook dumped you on the bed, shooing you upwards. You didn’t move, frowning at him. He sighed dramatically.

“You would. You are,” he corrected, planting a hand on your chest and pushing you down, bouncing you against your Pikachu bedsheets. He sandwiched your arms at your sides and straddled your torso. The bed bowed far too low and you almost slid off. Hurriedly, you scooted upwards and Jungkook followed, unbothered.

“You said I’m terrible with authority.”

Jungkook wrestled your arms back down and pinned them with his strong thighs. “You are.”

“You said I’m angry, twenty-four, seven.”

He cocked his head, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt. “Still true.”

“And you said I’m uptight,” you added ruefully, pouting.

Jungkook shrugged, reaching in between his legs to unbutton he last few ones. “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

“Jungkook!”

“What?”

He paused, towering above you, eyebrow raised. His black hair curled around his ears, against his silver hoops and base of his neck. His dark eyes pierced down at you, tiny mole under his lips clearly visible from this position. You could see the bottom of his sharp chin, the black t-shirt clinging to his chest, the shape of his tan arms, one tattooed, one not, from below.

“Y-you’re pinching my right arm…”

Jungkook looked down, moving his left leg. “Sorry.”

You winced, pulling out your left arm to rub the other. He tapped your forearm impatiently with his finger.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he scolded.

“You ruined it by bruising me,” you shot back, backing up to your pillows on your elbows, grimacing as you soothed your arm.

“I’m going to bruise you more if you keep being a little brat,” Jungkook growled, following you on hands and knees, the neckline of his t-shirt hanging down, revealing way too much of his skin. Your eyes widened and you slipped, a white plush Poro bonking you in the head. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, the poor guy rolling on the floor.

“That’s very rude,” you muttered, but he was over your body now, breathing hard, staring down your now open shirt and the curve of your breasts into your black bra.

“Why do you get hotter every year?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t?”

Jungkook shoved the sides of your pajama shirt apart impatiently, reaching under your back and pinching the bra clasp, undoing it with one hand.

“Yes, you do,” he exhaled hotly. “Every year you get prettier and prettier and it pisses me off so much that I have to work out to look half as good as you.”

You felt your ears and cheeks get hot. “Well… you do look very, erm, good.”

“You’re very convincing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, pushing your bra up and sucking in his lower lip as he revealed your hard, quivering nipples.

Your eyes shifted away from his hungry eyes. “I, uh… am very wet.”

A single, perfectly shaped eyebrow ticked. “Show me.”

“Um…”

He lifted himself off you, pointing down.

“Show me,” Jungkook commanded.

You tried to move your arms and found them tangled in your clothes. You frowned and shrugged out of your pajama shirt, chucking it and your bra aside, before gripping the waistband of your green fleece pants. You hesitated and looked back at Jungkook, who just flapped his hand downwards, giving you a neutral expression.

You puffed your cheeks and raised your hips, yanking your pants and panties down your thighs. You had to bend your legs a bit to fully take them off since Jungkook’s knees were on the outside of your thighs.

Now you were fully naked in front of your childhood best friend. And he was still fully clothed.

“Er, aren’t you going to–”

Jungkook cut you off. “You still haven’t shown me.”

You blinked at him. “What do you want me to do, become a fucking pretzel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Any way you can prove to me you’re wet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking…” You bent your right leg and slid it up between his thighs, brushing against his sweatpants and feeling his hard-on for a hot second before you jammed your leg into your chest and lifted it out, pressing your thigh against your torso and raising your calf into the air. You turned your head to the left, letting out an exasperated huff.

“There. You see it?”

Shit, this position was embarrassing for some reason. You could feel cold air on your dripping pussy. Maybe he couldn’t see or something. You lifted your right arm to wrap around your thigh, pressing it down against your breasts since Jungkook wasn’t saying anything.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jungkook breathed.

“Okay, going to put my leg do–”

You gasped, suddenly feeling Jungkook’s fingertips touch your heated core, smearing your juices around the lips, his hot breath against your ear as he touched you. You shuddered as he stroked your folds, your name on his lips, his lips kissing your ear.

“Had to touch you,” he whispered against your neck, tone desperate. “I’m sorry, I just had to touch that beautiful pussy, all wet and slopping for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered as his middle finger found your clit, pressing on it. “J-Jungkook… That’s my…”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah? That’s your what?”

Slow, lazy circles, pushing it around, moan leaving your lips. “My c-clit…”

“Want me to touch it?” Jungkook purred. “Want me to handle your pleasure?”

But he as already touching it, nursing the sensitive bundle of nerves and rousing your lust, igniting it and setting it on fire.

“Y-yes…”

He kissed down your neck, whispering softly, licking your collarbones. “You trust me? You trust me with this pretty, perfect, hot, sexy, fuckable body?”

You arched your neck, giving him more access as he ran his pink lips all over, rubbing your clit, mouth on your throat. Your whole body shook, hips rolling into his finger.

“Y-yes…”

His breath so electrifying that you could barely focus, barely speak as Jungkook’s other hand came up behind your head, long fingers burying into your hair, holding tight, so tight it almost hurt, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Want to mark you,” he mumbled. “Want to give you a big fat hickey you can’t explain, want to bruise you so bad you’ll be staring at it for weeks, thinking about my lips on you, remembering my teeth gave you that.”

He pressed another finger to your clit, increasing the pace, and all you could do was hiss out a yes, a burning yes, a pleading yes, please, Jungkook, whining as his teeth sank into the spot where your shoulder and neck connected, sucking hard, his tongue licking away the prickling pain. His hips rolled into your thigh, his hard cock pressing against you, straining against his pants.

Jungkook moaned into your skin, so hot, so intense, rubbing your aching clit faster, harder, more urgently. Sucking and humping your leg as the feeling of his teeth and his fingers overwhelmed you, one hand clutching his shirt and one hand curled into your sheets as your thighs shook, trying to close but unable to because Jungkook was so strong, so there, so overpowering that you could only lay there and take it, take it as his name poured out of you in a breathless wail, throwing your head back as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, your juices becoming slicker, thicker, the scent of your orgasm staining the air.

He shoved the two fingers inside you and unlatched his mouth, moaning with you as he felt you squeeze his fingers, pumping you in long, slow strokes, all the way to his knuckles. You whimpered, tightening your core and Jungkook moaned again, eyes closed, his hair in disarray as you fucked his hand, clamping your hands on his right forearm, gasping at the feel of his muscle. Pussy throbbing around his fingers, hips meeting his knuckles over and over.

His eyes opened, watching your fuck yourself with his hand, an almost bored expression on his features, but you didn’t care because you felt him flex his fingers and his arm, telling you to continue, telling you he liked it.

“I thought you were going to let me do it.” Jungkook’s voice was low, trying to stay even despite his shallow breathing. “Have to control everything, don’t you?”

You caught your lower lip in your teeth, eyes moving to his face, his handsome, angular face with his black hair curled around his forehead and his cocked eyebrow, smirk on his lips.

“I’m not in control,” you panted. “Your forearm is…”

Jungkook flexed it under your hand and you moaned pathetically, breath hitching.

His smirk grew wider.

“It’s getting you off touching it.”

You swallowed, close, so close and Jungkook was taunting you and for some reason you couldn’t tell him to shut up, because he kept tensing his arm and it was so fucking hot that you really were going to orgasm.

“Say it,” he purred, breathing your name. “Tell me you like my forearm.”

Your eyes shifted down to his arm in your hands, the tiny angry face tattoo in his inner elbow frowning at you.

“I fucking love it, Jungkook,” you gasped. “Fuck, I love your delicious, sexy-as-fuck forearms.”

He grinned and began to thrust his fingers into you, fast, so fast you couldn’t even fathom how he could be that fast like a fucking vibrator, sending torrents of pleasure through you and his arm was so hard and his skin so soft that your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning his name far too loud. Jungkook placed a hand over your mouth and you screamed into it, liquid gushing down your thighs, but he didn’t stop, he kept going until you felt it again, pussy throbbing, back-to-back, eyelids fluttering, nails digging into his arm as the crescendo slammed into you, taking your breath and senses away, lost only in the feeling of Jungkook’s secure presence above you.

He slowed, breathing hard. Gently, carefully pulling his fingers out of your pulsating pussy, gasping as he removed his hand. You vaguely heard Jungkook place his fingers in his mouth, sighing wantonly at your taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispered around his fingers. “Fuck, so sweet and thick and delicious.”

Your brain could not compute what the fuck was happening. Did Jungkook just give you three mind-blowing orgasms in a row after you exploded at him and admitted to thinking about him while masturbating?

Holy shit.

He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You swallowed thickly.

“Jungkook, do you, ah… want something too?” you asked quietly.

You heard him snicker. “If I take my clothes off, I’m going to want to put my dick in you.”

“… I’m cool with that.”

“I thought a dildo was the same as a dick?”

You cleared your throat. “Ah… Well, I didn’t think you’d want to put a dick in me.”

Jungkook laughed. “If I had five dicks, I’d put them all in you.”

“Erm… mathematically speaking, that doesn’t really work…”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook sat up, looking down at you with a smile. The same smile he always had, but a little different now, because he didn’t have to hide his attraction to you anymore.

“You really let me put it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “With a ninety-eight percent chance, only.”

His smile became mischievous. “That’s not one hundred percent.”

You puffed your cheeks.

“I’ll take the two percent chance for you and only you, Jungkook.”

He grinned and turned around, throwing himself to the end of the bed where his jeans were barely holding on. Fishing through the pockets, retrieving the foil packet from the back pocket. You blinked at him.

“How long has that been–”

Jungkook gave you a silencing look. “I bring a new one every time I come over, in hopes you become drunk enough to sit on my dick.”

You blinked at him. “What.” Not a question, just you stating it.

“Because you’re paranoid.”

You frowned. “I’m not–”

He launched himself over the bed and silenced you with a kiss, deep and longing. You leaned into it, breathing softly, tongue against his, pressing back against him. Jungkook drew back slowly, thumb on your cheek. Eyes looking into yours, careful and tender.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said against your lips. “I’ll do anything you want. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re not ready for the million babies I want from you.”

“I can’t have a million babies. It’s not scientifically possible,” you interjected.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can you just let me have one romantic moment?”

“Erm, sorry.”

“You want me to have a damn vasectomy or something? Because I’ll fucking do it. That shit’s reversible.”

“No, that kind of requires more time and I’m pretty horny for your dick right now. Condom will do.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are a shitty sub.”

“I will do better after I’ve had the dick.”

Jungkook straightened and yanked his black t-shirt over his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your eyes roamed over his toned chest. Damn, he was ripped. Maybe he was insecure about you being hot or something, but you were certainly benefiting. “You never know?”

Jungkook sent you a pained look and pressed a hand to your chest, shoving you back into your bed. “I’ve known you way too long to believe those words coming out of your mouth.”

You were going to reply, but he ran his hand over your chest, inhaling sharply as he brushed against your nipples. He ran his fingers over them, squeezing a little. You whined, trying to get more, but Jungkook pressed his palm down on your breast, breathing hard.

“Listen, woman, I’m about to explode in my damn underwear. Stop sounding so sexy this instant.”

Your eyes found his, pupils blown wide, lips pursed, and jaw tight. Your lips parted a little, tongue peeking out, a soft moan of his name emitting from your throat. You saw a muscle in his eyebrow twitch. He looked like he wanted to throttle you, at least a little bit.

You grinned.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You are lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “And lucky I want to be in this pussy more than I want to be alive.”

“Don’t you ne–”

Jungkook planted his hand on your mouth. “The only words I want to hear out of you are, “Fuck me harder” or my own name, you got that?” he snarled, pressing his hand into your face for emphasis.

You nodded quickly.

He sighed, almost in relief, and yanked his pants and underwear down, wincing. There was a large wet spot on his boxer briefs, strings of pre-cum clinging as he pushed it down his muscular thighs.

“You made me a giant mess,” he muttered, eyes flickering up to you. “What do you have to say?”

You blinked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned. “You do know how to listen.”

In truth, you couldn’t say anything because you were breathlessly staring at Jungkook’s thick cock, red head glistening with pre-cum, dripping everywhere. You slid down quickly, startling him, and wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as his strong taste invaded your mouth. He hissed, gritting his teeth as your tongue swiped around, licking his length all over, feeling the veins and contours, memorizing them.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You wanted to clean me up that bad?”

Your eyes traveled up his abs, his pecs, his neck, to his face, giving him your best imploring look. He smirked, placing a hand on your forehead, and gradually, with great effort, pulled out of your tight mouth. Tight because you sucked in your cheeks, not wanting to let him go, but Jungkook was stronger than you. You frowned, but he shooed you away.

“I allowed it this one time. Now back to your spot.”

You backed up, tsking as you watched him roll down the condom, groaning as it covered him.

“I’m actually glad I have this fucking condom,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you spread your legs. His eyes dropped down and he bit his lower lip, crawling to you, grabbing your thighs. Placing himself right in front of your soaked entrance, staring down at your pussy as he guided himself, sinking into you.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned, feeling Jungkook’s cock stretch you out, so different from a silicone dildo or multiple fingers, because it was Jeon Jungkook praying for air as you clenched around his length, his cries of pleasure as he rocked his hips into you. Those long nights with your vibrator and his Instagram open on your phone were incomparable to his cock molding to your walls, his hard hips finally hitting your thighs, all the way in, and it was so good that you throbbed around him, shuddering.

“J-Jungkook…” you pleaded.

“I know,” he panted, hands gripping your knees tight. “I know, but give me a second to appreciate this pussy, holy fuck.”

He jerked his cock inside you and you cried out, definitely crushing your sheets, but Pikachu had seen a lot by now and there was only going to be more.

Jungkook finally began to slide out and push back in, groaning, starting slow and deep because quite frankly he needed to last more than five seconds and your pussy was not letting up. You had too much control over your vaginal muscles and he was too into you to not be hugely turned on by it, shoving your legs up higher so he could go deeper, feel more of you surround him and massage his length.

“H-harder…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder…”

And how could Jungkook say no to that? Begging so perfectly, with just the right amount of desperation, and you didn’t even know it was driving him insane, because he knew normally you were so wound up, always worrying about being perfect, always worrying about doing the right thing, but now you were unraveling on his cock as he bent down and put more force into it, pounded you harder, watching the ecstasy in your eyes, your mouth opening and tongue peeking out, hot breath in his face. Knuckles white as you clutched the sheets, pleasure radiating up his length as you came with a cry, his name, his name on those perfect lips, lips he always watched with envy, wondering who had them, wondering who was so lucky to capture them.

And now it was just him, just him and you, and his hips slapping into your hips, pussy nearly choking his cock, but it felt so good, so fucking euphoric as you fucked him back, raising your hips to meet his, loud, wet, and lewd, probably causing a ruckus next door. But neither of you cared, your names mixing together, your eyes staring to Jungkook’s piercing brown ones, hot pleasure radiating up your stomach, your chest, to your head and there was no one else.

No one else but Jungkook’s name tumbling out of your mouth as the wave soared into you, pussy spasming as you came again, unsure at what number it was, but it was the one Jungkook wasn’t prepared for and he groaned, smacking into you one last time before you felt his cock throb and pulse against your walls, spilling into the condom. You gasped at the feeling, clenching around him, his right hand reaching over to grasp yours and hold it tightly, intertwining your fingers.

“W-wow…” you whispered breathlessly. “Nice cock.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.” He reached down and gingerly felt around in your dripping folds, finding the end of the condom and pulling out carefully.

“Fuck. It’s so much,” he gulped, brows knitted in worry.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I finished my period yesterday. Likelihood of you getting me pregnant is pretty low.”

Jungkook jerked his head towards you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that sooner?” he roared, slapping your leg. “I was scared shitless over here!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “So loud. Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut

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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

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While You Sleep

Chapter 7

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: i know the ending is ehh but i promise more will be explored in the next chapter <3

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your giddiness from the morning carried into the afternoon. You felt like you were floating half the time. The orders flying in flew out too as you moved flawless and happily through your work. Even when some customers would come up insisting their drink wasn’t correct, you accepted the complaint and happily presented a fresh cup. It was impeccable. A combination of feeling rested and feeling like you had someone.

You were at the tail-end of a rush when Steve came into the shop. He didn’t get in line, though, and instead took the last seat at the counter, watching you float about cheerfully.

You glanced up from the espresso machine. “Good morning, Steve.”

“Good morning,” he greeted back, watching you froth some milk for the newly brewed espresso.

You started pouring the milk into the cup, moving your hand delicately attempting to create some kind of pattern. “No coffee today?”

Steve shook his head as you placed the order under the pick-up sign and called out the name on the cup. You had a second to breathe and placed yourself back in front of Steve.

“I actually came to see how everything was going.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, a little smirk tugging at your lips. “I may be new to the whole soulmate thing but I am not clueless when it comes to friends. I’m sure Bucky is sharing everything.” You turned to start wiping down your workspace.

Steve frowned, “Bucky hasn’t told me anything.”

Your movements stopped. Brows furrowed in confusion, you asked, “He hasn’t said anything about me?”

Steve shook his head. “I just think he’s nervous. Probably wants to keep you for himself right now. I hear some soulmates can get like that at first.”

“Oh,” you hummed. “Well I can try to fill you in but there’s not much to discuss really. It's only been like a day. Dinner was lovely, though. Thank you for that, by the way.” Steve smiled. You continued, “He walked me home that night which was very kind, and then this morning he surprised me. He was waiting outside my apartment building to walk me to work.”

Steve’s jaw went slack. “Bucky walked you to work? Here?”

You nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically but you couldn’t help yourself. “We had a lovely walk and chatted along the way.” He stared at you as if waiting. “Steve, I’m not going to tell you what we talked about.”

Steve let out a light chuckle, throwing his hands up dramatically in defeat. “Alright, alright,” he said, “I won’t pry but can you blame a man for trying? My best friend is finally learning about his soulmate. That’s big for anyone but for Bucky in particular...”

You couldn’t help the blush creeping up on your face for what felt like the millionth time today. It was one thing to hear stuff from Bucky but to get an outsider's perspective, well, that was a rush. You held a little bit of pride from it as well.

“Well, thanks for getting us together,” you smiled, turning to wipe down a coffee machine.

“You’re not mad at me for the ambush?”

“Oh, no, I’m very mad about that.” You said, pointedly, as you glanced over back at Steve. He still had a shit-eating grin on his lips, not even an ounce of sorriness came off him.

“Well, once again, can you blame me? How else was I supposed to get you two to actually talk? Besides, I’m not actually hearing any complaints from you about it.”

Darn. He got you there. You sighed with a small nod and faced Steve once more. “No, of course, I’m not complaining,” you admitted, “you’re just lucky it turned out well.”

“It was always going to turn out well,” Steve said, matter-of-factly. “You two are soulmates.”

You frowned, “I could’ve moved on.”

Steve chuckled, absolutely dismissing the idea. “That doesn’t actually happen now does it?”

No, it doesn’t, but you didn’t want to admit it out loud. Once you actually stood in the same room as Bucky, you knew there was no turning back. However it may have ended up, you were always to feel that pull towards him. You think you were hooked the second you saw him on the television, despite that initial onslaught of fear.

When a few seconds had passed and Steve was still met with no answer, he gave you a smile. “Have a good rest of your day.”

As he turned his back to you, you called out, “I gave him my number.” Once the words left your lips you felt a bit unsure of why you were telling him this. “That’s another thing that happened this morning. I just really wanted to…” What did you want to do?

“Open that connection?” Steve guessed but you realized quickly that was correct. You wanted a more direct line to him, to maybe establish more happenings and dates. It sounded so fucking childish in your head but this all was so new to you.

Once you nodded, confirming his assumptions. Steve said, “He’s probably very thankful for that.”

Now he was really done speaking. Steve promptly left after that without any more goodbyes or chances for you to blurt out ridiculous updates. Why, anyways, were you actually updating Steve? Maybe because part of you felt you owed him. He sort of deserved to know a little about the couple he aided along in bringing together. Or maybe he was living vicariously through you two seeing as his own soulmate was gone. Perhaps, though, at the end of the day, he was a friend and from your previous observations, this kind of chatter over soulmates and first glances was what other people did. It felt good to finally sort of be in on it all with everyone else.

***

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed. You were just starting to make your way to your apartment. Slightly confused, you turned on the screen to see a text message written more in the form of a formal letter.

Good afternoon. Did this send? Xo, Bucky

Despite the silliness and him clearly dating himself (not like it was a secret, though), you were practically wooed by the little hugs and kisses at the end. It really reminded you of some old-timey letter. You swore, it was always the simplest things with this man that just pulled you in.

Quickly, you crafted your message back: It sent! Was that your first text message ever?

After hitting ‘send,’ you started on the path back home. While maybe not expecting an immediate response, you also didn’t expect to be halfway to your building before Bucky texted back.

Yes, the text read. Can I call? -Bucky

You chuckled at the continuation of the sign-off but quickly replied, telling him you were free to talk whenever. Within seconds, your phone was ringing.

“Hello!” you said, fairly a bit too cheerily into your phone. You could practically hear Bucky’s smile as he answered.

“Hello,” he greeted you. “How is work?”

“It was good,” you said, “I’m on my way home now.”

“What?” Bucky gasped. “You should’ve told me what time you got off. I would’ve walked you home.”

You giggled, “Well, you maybe you should’ve asked what time my shift ended. I think this goes both ways, Buck.”

There was a moment of silence. “I forgot,” he eventually admitted with a sigh. “Someone had to go and kiss my cheek so I really couldn’t think straight.”

You let out a loud laugh at his comment, feeling a blush creeping on slowly on your neck and cheeks. Bucky matched your laugh.

“I’m sorry I’m such a distraction, I’ll do better,” you giggled. “Was there a particular reason you wanted to call?”

Bucky let out a bit of a disappointing sigh as if he didn’t want to admit something. “I’m not too skilled at this texting thing.”

“Oh,” you frowned, a bit uncertain. “It’s just like typing on a computer.” Sure, you said it like it was so obvious, but then you sort of hit you, remembering who you were speaking to. You stopped in your tracks, wanting to bang your head against a wall. “I-I mean-,”

“It’s alright,” Bucky let out a breathy chuckle. “I have typed on a computer but my phone doesn’t mimic that. It’s one of those flipping phones.”

“Flipping phones?” It took you a second but then the lightbulb went off. “Oh, you have a flip phone. No keyboard, then.”

“No keyboard,” he confirmed. “I figured out how to use the little keypad but it’s not exactly efficient. Plus, calling allows me to hear your lovely voice.”

You continued walking, suppressing a ridiculous, dopey smile as you passed others on the street. “You’re such a flirt.”

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Yeah? You think so?”

You caught yourself nodding before realizing he couldn’t even see you. “Absolutely,” you said out loud.

“Glad to know I still got some game.”

“Oh?” You inquired. “Were you swooning all the ladies back in the day?” The second the words left your mouth, you realized where this conversation was going and a sharp twinge of jealousy ran through you. Your eyes began watering at just the ridiculous thought of a hopeless Bucky thinking he had no soulmate and mindlessly pulling in girls left and right.

Bucky must’ve picked up on the sudden shift in you - possible perks of the bond - because he spoke very carefully after a minute. “Past me certainly did some things,” he admitted, “but he didn’t know there was a beautiful woman waiting for him way down the line.”

Your throat tightened a bit at the threat of tears. You took a couple of deep breaths completely shocked by how emotional one little thought could make you. The conversation on the topic hadn’t even lasted a full minute and Bucky was frantically calming you down.

You wanted to change the subject. Possibly putting it back on you. “When did you first learn about me?”

Bucky went silent again. You pressed the phone to your ear with your shoulder, waiting, as you rifled for your keys in your bag when you saw your building coming into view.

“They… I… I went, or really it, went dormant and I don’t know how I remember this, usually, my brain went blank in those circumstances, but one day I got this vision of you. You were playing with this bright, white cat on the lawn with this little house right behind you.” Mittens, you realized as you began unlocking your apartment door. He saw you with your pet cat Mittens whom you had when you were just a kid. “I was really confused until I felt that tug in the soulmate line or whatever they call it. I knew it was real because you never vanished. No matter what they did to me, when I was put away, you were there. Like some sort of angel sitting in my head. They couldn’t take that from me. They could never take you.”

You thought you were going to start crying as you stood in the doorway of your apartment hearing the sadness mixed with faint hope run throughout Bucky’s voice as he recalled the dreams. You could practically feel it all, too, within you.

“Bucky…” you sighed. A light sniffle came through on the other end but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, Bucky abruptly turned the tables on you as you probably should’ve expected. While you wanted to talk more of it out with him (Lord knows it seems like he needed it) you let him steer the conversation.

“I know you said we could discuss this later but I’m very curious,” Bucky began, changing the subject as easily as you had just prior, “when did you first learn about me? You said you’ve seen some things but I’m really curious what your first impressions were.”

It was like someone just stabbed in through the chest. You really should’ve known this was coming. The first memories of Bucky - the Winter Soldier - flashed through your mind chaotically.

“I really don’t-,”

“Please,” he begged. The tone in his voice now… You had made it all too obvious earlier that morning. Of course, this was bound to come back around and you had opened the fucking gates. “It doesn’t have to be detailed. Just… something.”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair in anger as you took a seat on the couch. “You weren’t really you.” That was all you felt you could say as your heart was now in your stomach and your throat felt like it was filled with razor blades.

“I wasn’t…” He sounded confused at first but then the words trailed off. You could practically feel the exact moment when it all clicked for him. You wanted to throw up.

“Bucky-,”

You were cut off by the line going dead and the sound of dial tone greeting your ears.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #soulmate au #angst #fluff #writing*#fanfic #fanfiction

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miastideclock · 4 years ago

Text

Stray Kids Reaction To Their S/O Being Shy About Their Singing-Talents

anon asked:

Can you do stray kids reaction to their s/o being a good rapper and singer but they get shy and have low confidence? - 🐻💙

Of course love! I hope you like it x So sorry for the wait! While we're here, I just wanna say I'm sorry for the length difference of the individual reactions! * y/n/n is what i use for your nickname btw

Word Count: 3.5k-ish

Bang Chan

Silence. At least for the most part. You clicking the keyboard of your computer, Chan humming slightly as he clicked around on his own, as well as twisting and turning the dials on his audio mixer, connected to said computer. The sounds had sort of blended into the silence though, so neither of you really noticed it at this point.

A click louder than all of the others soon came from Chan's computer, meaning he was going to connect his progress to the speakers of his studio, so he could fully take in the track he was working on. He had played it what seemed like a million times already, but you didn't mind. You were already so phased out that he could be announcing the break up of Stray Kids', and you honestly wouldn't even catch it.

The familiar beat of their upcoming title track boomed through the speakers, and as if on autopilot, you sang along. You had heard the beginning of that very song so many times now, the lyrics were as good as engraved into the inside of your eyelids.

Once the first verse and chorus were over, the song stopped, as did you. It was when the song didn't play again you finally snapped out of your computer-trance. You shifted your eyes from the screen over to your boyfriend who was sitting on the other side of the room.

"Y/n."

You then realized you had been singing along, and probably not as quiet as you had thought. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to distract you. I'll keep quiet." You quickly apologized.

You were hanging out with your boyfriend, yes- but he was still at work, and you'd hate to be the reason for him switching out of his creative-mode.

"No! No, no, don't worry. You're just so good? How come I have never heard you sing before?" Chan grinned as he turned his spinny-chair to face you and fell back into it, looking at you with admiration.

You had been sitting on the floor with your back against the seat of the couch, so the coffee table by the mentioned couch had your laptop at shoulder-height, meaning you had to close the screen of your computer to see your boyfriend. Once you had done so, you moved your hands up to your face, covering your cheeks.

"I don't like the attention. I hate it when people look at me like- exactly like you're doing now, stop!" You giggled when Chan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He decided to mess around with you and started staring you down. You laughed and begged him to stop, but the more you did, the more intensely he stared at you- until he eventually cracked, sending you both into fits of laughter.

Lee Know

"First things first rest in peace Uncle Phil."

The music blared from your headphones straight into your head, being the only thing keeping you motivated as you did some housework. Seeing as you were mopping when the J.Cole song started playing, you figured the handle would prove to be the perfect microphone.

"For real, you the only father that I ever knew." You continued, singing and rapping along while shaking your butt and cleaning the floor. Maybe not the world's most efficient cleaning strategy, but my-oh-my did it get the job done.

Due to the loud volume in your headphones, you didn't hear the front door open and shut, as your boyfriend came home for the day.

Minho didn't even get the chance to put down his bag before his attention was completely wrapped around you having a concert in your living-room. He quickly recognized the song and let his head bob along to the beat, even though he could only hear you rapping, and not the song itself. He kicked off his shoes and placed his things on the ground before he slowly made his way into the living-room, doing a little boogie as he did so.

It wasn't until you finally turned around almost a minute later you saw your boyfriend joking around, dancing to your rapping. You instantly dropped the mop and let out a little scream as he startled you, covering your face with your hands once you saw it was just him.

"Minho! What are you doing?" You cried out in embarrassement after removing your headphones. Minho couldn't help but chuckle at you before he came closer and gave you a kiss-hello.

"Y/n, I never knew you had such voice-control! You've never rapped in front of me before, why?" He asked when he pulled away, his arms still wrapped around your waist, but his face a few inches away from yours.

"Because you're an actual rapper in an actual band!! That's like showing Michelangelo your drawing!" You argued back, a massive smile on your face. Minho then continued to shower you in compliments, making you hide your blushing face from him by burying it into his chest.

Changbin

The kitchen had all kinds of different smells as you were stirring the pot of soup you had on the stove in front of you. The kitchen-window was open, letting in a fresh spring breeze, and the radio was playing a familiar song.

"Hold me close and hold me fast The magic spell you cast This is La Vie En Rose." You softly sang along, your body swaying back and forth to the tune. You continued to sing along as you used the wooden-spoon to stir around, making sure it didn't burn.

(bro, i think i fucked up my sOUP)

"Hey, Y/n/n." It suddenly came from the doorway to the kitchen, instantly causing you to stop singing and spin around. "Hi, Binnie." You gave him a smile and then turned back around, squeezing your eyes shut, only for a second- as if you were trying to erase the past ten seconds. You hoped the radio was louder than your voice, but that hope soon came crashing down.

"No, why'd you stop?" He asked as he placed a few sheets of paper on the table and continued over to you. You started smiling like an idiot for a second before you raised your hands to cover your face. Chanbin noticed and chuckled as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. "Don't be shy!"

He then spun you around so you were facing him, but your hands still covered your face. This made Changbin just chuckle even more. He tried to jokingly pry your hands from your face, but you just shoved your head into his shoulder so he wouldn't be able to grab you properly. You either couldn't help but chuckle as you messed around, but quickly stopped once you remembered you were cooking.

You turned around to keep stirring your soup, Changbin never let go of you. "But tell me, why have I never heard you sing before when your voice is THAT good?" He asked, but you ignored him.

"For real?" He tried again, but you pretended he didn't say anything.

"Would you like some soup?" You asked him, turning slightly to look at him. He seemed amused, but he just nodded, accepting your choice of lunch.

Hyunjin

Hot water poured down your back, the whole shower smelling like your body wash. You had just gotten back from a run and decided to clean up a bit before Hyunjin came back from work. So after getting out of your leggings and hoodie, you had grabbed your speaker and headed for the washroom.

Knowing Hyunjin wasn't home, you qued the best of the best from your playlist, getting ready to absolutely shred the imaginary rap battles you were about to have. Banger after banger played as you sang into your microphone. Your mic being an empty shampoo bottle you had yet to throw out.

You were mid-shampoo when Streets by Doja Cat played, and you almost slipped and fell while hurriedly reaching for your microphone.

"Damn, papi, you a rare breed, no comparing." You borderline yelled, as if you had just gotten out of a failed relationship where you still loved your partner, when in fact that wasn't your case at all. You were very much in love with your boyfriend, and you were on great terms- but for the sake of your rap battle, you had to get into it.

"When other chickens tryna get in my coop 'Cause you're a one in a million There ain't no man like you!" Not to toot your own horn or anything, but you could confidently say you absolutely bodied that verse, and you were soon let know you weren't the only one who thought so.

(I don't actually think he is the one to cuss, but this is simply because I cannot think of another way to say it, so for the lack of a better word:) "Fuck it up, baby!" You heard Hyunjin hype you up on the other side of the bathroom door, making your stomach drop for a second.

"You're not supposed to be home yet." You answered him after turning off the speaker, and the shower. You stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around you, then went to open the door.

"Well, I had to hurry home when I heard the rap God themselves was having a concert in our bathroom." Hyunjin chuckled once you opened the door with almost a shameful face. "Should I talk to JYP about getting you a rap-audition, or..?" He dragged out the last word, kind of he was taunting you, but in the most loving way possible. Feeling your cheeks grow hot, you closed the door back up and locked him out.

"I'm never leaving this bathroom." You announced as you covered your face, even though Hyunjin could no longer see you.

"Y/n/n, I was kidding! You were great though, I might actually talk to JY-" He started again, but you cut him off by groaning, causing the both of you to break out laughing.

Han

Clicking of a pen. Gentle tapping of a foot. Frustrated hair ripping. You had seen these symptoms before- that's right, Jisung was in a slump.

You were at the studio with your boyfriend, and you were both seated in the sitting group, Jisung leaning his elbows on the table, head in his hands, tugging at his hair as if it would activate his creative juices. You had tagged along just to get out of the house, and maybe Jisung needed moral support, and wouldn't you have guessed- that was exactly what he needed.

"You good?" You asked him after he let out the umpteenth sigh in the past hour. He then finally confessed he just couldn't get the ending of the second verse down. "Why don't you sing it, so you can hear what's missing, rather than just reading it?"

He did as you suggested and sang through it. When he came to the part he was talking about, you also heard it. Something about it was just kinda.. off.

You tilted your head to the side as you were thinking of ways to better it, to try and help him. An idea popped into your head, and maybe it could work- after all you were no song writer. You tried your best to explain to Jisung what it was you were thinking, but about half-way through, you could see he was as lost as that one time Chan and Changbin had accidentally left the two of you behind at IKEA.

"I'm so sorry, babe. I don't fully understand what you mean." He confessed, and you nodded, knowing well that was him being sweet about the fact that you sucked at explaining things. So in the spirit of making it easier for him to understand, you just sang it. You sang through the song and added the part you had tried to explain.

"Did that make more sense?" You asked when you were done, looking from the sheet of paper up at your boyfriend, who was sat there, his lips slightly parted as his jaw hung lose. "Jisung? Babe?" You tried to snap him back to reality as it seemed he had zoned out, but only for a moment.

"Wait, that was so good? Since when were you that good?" Jisung suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, smiling and almost bouncing in his seat. He continued to shower you in compliments, making you feel like a turtle trying to get back into its shell.

"Stop. If you ever mention me singing again, I will throw myself out the window." You said, both humor in your tone, and being dead serious at the same time.

"Okay, dramatic much?" Jisung joked back, making you shove his shoulder as you chuckled alongside him.

Felix

A car zoomed past you as you walked on the pavement on the side of the road, admiring the spring at its full bloom. You were almost a bit disappointed when you reached your home as you wanted to continue to look at the flowers, but that thought soon fell right out of your head. As you walked up the staircase to your apartment, you heard a constant noise grow louder and louder. You were about to turn the key when you realized the noise was more rhythmic than you originally thought, and that the music was coming from inside your apartment.

Curiosity completely consumed your body when you finally opened the door, and was met with a wall of noise. You took a few steps in and shut the door behind you, protecting the outside world from the sight you had in front of you.

Felix was using a hairbrush as he jumped around both on the floor and in the couch, crying out the lyrics to a song you didn't quite recognize. You laughed at your boyfriend as you kicked off your shoes and hung your coat in the closet.

Felix finally spotted you and quickly pulled out his phone that was connected to the speakers, and changed the song. The familiar intro of your favorite song soon played, and it didn't take as much as a second before you were as hyped as Felix were. You began jumping around and dancing with him, matching his energy.

Felix screamed the lyrics into the hairbrush before he swiftly tossed you the brush, letting you pop off as well. You rapped the words perfectly into the brush, standing on the couch as your concert evolved.

The song eventually came to an end, causing the both of you to fall breathlessly to the ground, heaving for air- massive smiles on your faces. The ground was cool against your now sweaty backs. A few seconds passed before Felix spoke.

"I don't think I have ever heard you rap before." He admitted. You kept staring at the ceiling, ignoring the boy at your side for a few seconds before you decided to answer him.

"And you will never hear it again."

Both you and Felix could back the claim that he had never moved as fast as he did when you said that. He had jumped up so he was on his elbows, facing you with wide eyes.

"No!! Please! You were so good!" He cried out, making you laugh at him. You just gave him a wink before you got to your feet and went to get the groceries you had left in the hallway.

Seungmin

"How about we go in there? Maybe I can find you a shirt?" You spoke after pointing to a store.

You were currently out shopping with your boyfriend, Seungmin. He had asked you to get him an outfit, not for any special occasion of anything, just for shits and giggles. It was your favorite type of dates, the ones where you don't really plan anything, you just end up doing fun and silly things.

Seungmin nodded and you soon dragged him into the store. The layout of the shop was like any other, so you soon made your way to the back where the mens clothing was.

As you were casually roaming the racks of clothes, the speakers soon started playing one of your favorite songs, making it impossible for you to not hum along. You kept looking at the different items of clothing on your left, Seungmin behind you, looking through the clothes on your right hand side.

Soon, the song picked up, you quietly jamming along, allowing yourself to softly sing along as there were no other customers near you.

Your hand suddenly slid over a material that caught your attention. It was a green oversized tee, with some colorful and funky letters on the front. You cut yourself off to turn around and show Seungmin the shirt, asking him what he thought about the item.

You held it up, but no reply. "Seungmin?" You tried again. It was odd seeing as he was looking at you with a slight smile, yet he was not replying to your question. You then lowered the shirt and waved your hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"You okay?" You asked him once he gently shook his head to re-focus his eyes. He nodded gleefully.

"Sorry, your voice was just so good that I completely forgot where we were." He admitted, giving you a look. You pursed your lips and spun on your heel, so he wouldn't see your burning cheeks.

I.N

Date night! You and boyfriend Jeongin had just been at a local restaurant for a cute night out. Nothing overly fancy, just a chance to enjoy each others company, since you both had been busy lately.

After you had paid your bill, the two of you went for a walk to enjoy the warm, evening air. With nowhere in mind, you just casually wandered down the street, your hands intertwined as you swung them back and forth, pulling and pushing at each other in a joking manner.

"Woah, when did this get here?" Jeongin suddenly asked as you passed a building with a bright neon sign hanging out front. You looked to your side to see what it was he was talking about.

Karaoke, the neon sign read. You turned back to your boyfriend and gave him a smug smile, hoping he was thinking the same as you. He returned the smile and suddenly you were being shown to a private room by the hostess.

The first few songs were just the two of you messing around, screaming ABBA into your respective microphones. At one point while picking the next song, Jeongin saw a song he really wanted to do, but as you didn't know the lyrics, you decided to sit this one out.

He belted his heart out to the tune you found unfamiliar, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. Jeongin was after all a singer in a world-renowned band- boy had talent.

The song came to an end, resulting in you giving him a standing ovation as he playfully bowed repeatedly.

"I'm your biggest fan!" You raised your hands to your mouth and pretended to be yelling it at the 'stage', like he just held a concert for thousands. You both laughed at yourselves before Jeongin announced it would be his turn to sit one out. You took that as you cue to get up from the couch and pick a song.

You were no singer, never was- never will be, at least not in public. So when you had to pick a song, you didn't care if it didn't 'fit your range', or 'suit your voice'. You picked a song you liked and ran with it.

The melody started, and you raised your mic to your lips, singing the words that were showing on the large screen in front of you. You found it wasn't as fun to sing without your boyfriend, but got through the song anyways.

As most things do, the song came to and end. You placed the mic on the table and turned around to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Mid turn, you saw your boyfriend like you never had before. His eyes were wide and his jaw was lose.

"What?" You asked him, uncapping the water bottle and taking a swig.

"Where did that come from?" He asked, eyes still wide as dinner-plates. You raised your eyebrow in a questioning manner, as if you were asking him to elaborate. "You're an amazing singer! How have I never heard that before?"

You felt your cheeks grow hot, and your eyes instantly found the ground, suddenly too shy to look at Jeongin. He chuckled at your reaction, and leaned forward so he could reach your hand from where he was sitting. He then pulled you back so you fell to the couch, crossing your arms over your chest, your shoulders up to your ears by now.

"We have to do this more often so I can hear you sing more!" He stated as he poked your arm, trying to get you to be less shy- and somehow it worked.

Hope you liked it! Feel free to request again!

-bentley

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years ago

Note

Jake gets infuriated when he sees mc (Natasha) is giving more time to one of her college friend (Chris)

She didn’t notice..

Summary: Not enough talk, too many misunderstandings, too fast condemnation, too much jealousy. Too much attention and too much fear.

Pairing: Jealous!JakexMc (Natasha)

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: Just a little swearing. Jealous Jake. Slightly arrogant Jake. (Fast plot (I'm sorry))

A/n: Thank you very much for your request, I hope you will like it and that it is okay. Otherwise have a nice evening/ day/ night and take care of yourself, stay healthy.

"Yeah, you’re right, class today was really funny, chemistry went a bit wrong, but next time we’ll make it, okay?" you finish the voice memo to your classmate Chris. You just come home from college and poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen. "Hello MC" Jake greets you while he come out from his study. "Hi babe" you also greet him while you unlock your phone again to listen to Chris' quick response. You hold the phone to your ear and giggles as he says he thought the blue liquid was different than he thought. Jake sits on one of the kitchen chairs and watches you quietly. When you take your phone off your ear, he asks you, "Who are you talking to?" “Just with Chris from my college class, we had a funny accident in chemistry today," you tell him. "Who is Chris?" he asks a little skeptical.

"He’s not from here, he moved here to go to university, his father runs a big computer technology company. I don’t know exactly what the name is, but it’s one of the greatest, really cool, right? You two would probably get along" you excitedly tell him about Chris. He nods briefly for confirmation and you frown, "I don’t think so" he speaks so softly that you can’t understand him properly. "Everything okay?" you ask carefully. "Yes, all right, I have to keep working, okay?" The question was more rhetorical than he already got up to go back to his study. You shrug your shoulders and decide to answer Chris. "Mistakes happen to the best ones," you reassure him giggling, then you complain,"I just can’t chemistry, it doesn’t go into my head. At least you chose blue, I wanted to put the green stuff on it."

The first thing you decide to do is take a little break on the sofa before you start doing your tasks. "What about learning for IT? You said you had problems with one program, I know how to do it, I can help you." Chris suggests, and you like the idea. "That would be incredibly nice of you, I really need help, I just don’t understand this stupid program," you whine. "So I can right now if you have time?" he asks and sounds a little hopeful in his audio. "Sure, today is a good, I don’t have much to do," you confirm with a smile. Chris is really good at this topic, he will be able to help you perfectly. "Okay, how about 4 p.m., in the coffee rainbow?" he suggests, and you agree, "That fits" "Good, see you later."

The hacker sits annoyed in front of his 4 screens and stares at the loading bar which reveals how far the update is that he needs for one of his new programs. He stares at his screen in a bad mood that it is a miracle that the screen does not start crying. He bites his jaw tightly and his hands are clenched into fists.

He had heard that you wanted to be helped by someone else. That you’re meeting someone else to get a computer program explained. His father runs an IT company? That’s why you let this Chris help you? Damn it, he’s the best hacker the world has ever seen, and he’s your boyfriend. B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D! He thinks about whether he should dare to check this Chris. But you just shouldn’t find out, otherwise you’d probably be mad at him forever. On the other hand, it’s actually his right to see who you want to meet. After all, Chris could been sent by the government, right? It’s possible they found out where he is and sent someone to arrest him. At one of his other screens, he begins the systematic search for Chris and also for the company. He decides to take a look at the company first and then the rest. It quickly turns out that the company is a company that creates firewalls for large corporations. He laughs mockingly, he created the best firewall in the world. He’d get into the security system in a few clicks.

He have NYM-OS as a firewall. NYM-OS is the best security program in the world. If he would sold NYM-OS and made it available to others, all other companies could close.

He would normally not react as extreme as he is now, if it weren’t for days. You’ve been talking to Chris every free second of every day. Even when he and you watch a movie together, he always notices how you consistently take a look at your phone. And as soon as you have a new message, you answer. It’s driving him crazy. And every night you get this 'good night' message, and always with two red hearts, two red hearts! Damn, he’s not a person who cares about emojis at all. He’s the ':)' type, who only uses '<3' as a heart.

But what if that’s not enough for you? What if you want more, someone using the right emojis? That’s ridiculous, it’s just emojis. Does Chris know you have a boyfriend? Did you tell him about it? Actually, you guys tend to keep it private. Why would anyone care?

But right now, he wants you to tell the whole world. Everyone should know, even if that weren't good, even dumb. But the hacker just has the urgent need that everyone knows is at your side. A look at the clock in the corner of his screen reveals that it is already half past three. So in 15 minutes, you’d be going to your meeting.

He decides to wait with the search for Chris until you leave, so that he can concentrate on it. His program is finally finished, so he’s going to do this first.

Until you knock on the door 10 minutes later. "I’m meeting with Chris at the Kaffe Rainbow now, okay? He’s helping me out for college" you explain, and you’re smiling at Jake. He is really so beautiful. "Okay, which subject?" he asks you casually without turning to you. "A tool. This doesn’t work right, but it’s important for my subject." You don’t even seem to notice how much your words hit him, and the openness you tell him about it hurts him. Of course, it’s better than lying to him, but it still hurts him. "All right," he grumbles and taps annoyed around his keyboard with his fingers.

"Aren’t you saying goodbye to me?" you ask unsure, wondering why he is so dismissive of you. "Of course," he answers quietly and finally turns around. You bend down to him to give him a kiss but after a second he immediately moves away. "Take care, see you later" he sounds almost disinterested and you notice a prick in your chest. "I love you, my heart" you mumble. "Yes, I love you too, Natasha"

Wow, 'Yes, I love you too?' Yes? Why 'yes'? 'Why is he so dismissive? Did I do something wrong?' you wonder in your head. You decide to talk to him later when you get back, but now you have to go, you don’t want to keep Chris waiting.

The door falls shut and Jake moans loudly and rubs his hands through his face.This fucking jealousy is really terrible! He’s growling, the thought of you going out to meet this Chris guy makes him mad. His heart is racing and he drops his head backwards against the back of the chair.

This is not normal.

Yeah, that sounds very dramatic. But he swore he’d always protect you and never let you go. You’re the first person he really cares about besides Hannah and Lilly. You are the first person he can imagine sharing his life with, and right now he sees this future in danger. All the attention you’ve paid to Chris over the last few days is making him nervous.

And even worse, he doesn’t know how to deal with it or what to do so that he doesn’t feel so bad about it.

He really would have a lot of means to get rid of Chris, which sounds a lot like Mafia, but that’s not what it mean. He could make a few simple clicks to get Chris to move back to the city he came from. Get him kicked off campus or something. But unfortunately, he swore to himself that he would use his arts and talent exclusively for good and important things. He could never destroy anyone’s future.

He just has to trust you, you would never lie to him or cheat on him. You wouldn’t leave him, you love him, you said it a few minutes ago. But his thoughts seem to really drive him crazy. Scenarios where you’re in the end because of Chris, spitting through his head. How he sees pictures of you on Instagram, how you spend your life with Chris. How you still keep in touch with his sisters, and all those things.

Luckily, it suddenly rings at the door and drives away these horror stories for a short moment. He jumps up from his chair to escape from the room, which suddenly seems so narrow and small. He hurries to the front door and with a lot of momentum he opens it. Outside, Hannah stands looking at him in surprise, "Hi," she chuckles as she sees his strange look, "Have you been drinking too much coffee or where does this energy come from? “ "Oh well, Hello Hannah" he greets his sister and makes room to let her in. "How are you? " she asks lovingly as she closes the door again. "Yes," he replies, as quickly as the thoughts have gone, they have now returned. "Huh? Yeah? Jake this is not a real answer to this question" she informs him.

„Oh no, I mean, yeah, all right, and with you? " he goes straight back to his room. Hannah follows him with a skeptical look. "Ok, something is wrong here! " she notes and folds her arms in front of her chest, waiting for an answer. "Everything okay, Hannah, really, but what are you doing here? " he quickly distracts and lets himself sink back into the chair. "I’m here to pick up Natasha, the whole group is meeting at the Rainbow, where is she? " she inquires. Jake snorts bitterly, "She forgot your meeting, but don’t worry, she’s already in the rainbow," he explains. „Wow, wow wow, okay. It’s not just 'something' wrong here, Is there a war or what? What happened? Did you have a fight?" worried, she sinks onto the small couch. Jake have his arms crossed and looks at the ceiling, and turning around on his chair. "Ask Chris when you’re at the cafe," he murmur "he'll tell you, whats going on" "Who is Chris? " Hannah raises an eyebrow in surprise. Her brother grins mockingly, "Someone from her college. Who really gets a lot of attention" His sister twists her eyes, "Now don’t let me ask everything! Just tell me what happened"

In the short version, the hacker tells his half-sister about his problem and what happened the last few days. How he feels and also reveals to her his fear of losing you.

"Watch out" begins Hannah, "Put on your shoes and a jacket and let’s go!" Motivated, Hannah jumps up. "Where?" Jake asks cluelessly. "Well, you’re coming with me to the rainbow. We’re all meeting, and you’re now with everyone, too. And I’m your sister so you have every right to come along!" "I don’t think it’s a good idea, otherwise Natasha still thinks I’m spying on her" The brown-haired one laughs, "Yes, that’s exactly what we do, so come on," she forces him. "Hannah I-" he tries, but she raises an index finger to silence him, "No, get dressed! Come along!" "Stop beeing so revenge funny, Natasha is your friend," he reminds his sister. "Jake, you’re my brother, and even though she’s my friend, I don’t like the way she treats you right now. And I’m not doing anything, we’re just going to have a coffee. Besides, I have every right to be mad because she forgot about us, and I think that’s a shame"

Said and done

5 minutes later, the siblings enter the beautiful coffee. Immediately the large group is noticed, which has to push two tables together each time, so that there is enough space. "Ah Hannah" shouts Thomas as he discovers his girlfriend. She takes her brother by the hand to pull him behind her, but his gaze is not on the group, but on you. You’re laughing at a joke he made for you by Chris while he explains to you how exactly the program works. Jake doesn’t like how close you sit next to each other, of course you both have to be able to look at the screen, but that’s extremely close.

The call of Thomas for his girlfriend makes you look up from the screen and immediately you meet the neutral, almost cold look of your boyfriend. Surprised, you draw your eyebrows together. You didn’t expect him here. You don’t have a chance to give him a sign like a smile or something, he’s already sitting at the table. From here, you can’t hear what the others are saying, but when you see the look on Hannah’s face, you suddenly come to remember that you were on a date with the group. "Can we go on?" Chris asks and pulls you out of your mind, "Ooh, sure," you mumble. You really have to apologize later.

"What are you doing here?" Richy asks the hacker, "And why is Natasha sitting back there with someone else?"" Before Jake can answer, Hannah takes the job off him, "Natasha is otherwise busy, she forgot about us." "Serious?" Dan asks in amazement and then looks at Jake, "Trouble in paradise?" "Funny Dan. Really funny" Jake hisses and twists his eyes. "Hey, that was just a joke," the bearded one explains, "I just wanted to say that the guy is weird." "Did anyone talk to her?" Hannah asks. "No, we were just waving at her, I thought she’d be here soon, but it doesn’t look like it," says Thomas. "Hi guys" Lilly welcomes the round. They’re all here now. While Jake’s second sister takes off her jacket, she asks, "What’s going on here?" She points to you and Chris in the corner. "We’ve been transferred," Hannah tells her again.

After Lilly sits down, the hacker begins to tell again what the problem is. "And she didn’t realize you weren’t happy about it?" Lilly asks and sounds a little angry. "No, she doesn’t know," Jake sighs. "I’ll clear this up" the blond-haired woman shrugs her shoulders and gets up. "No wait" her brother tries to stop her but she doesn’t let herself be disturbed.

You notice Lilly coming towards you with a not enthusiastic look. "Hello Lilly" you greet her still smiling. She nods neutral and pulls a chair back that creates an unpleasant squeak on the tiles. "Hi" she calls and looks expecting, "Who is that?" She immediately comes out with her concerns. You are almost swallowing up, "This is Chris, we have some subjects together at college," you explain to her. What’s going on now?

She stretches her hand across the table to Chris, "Hi, I’m Lilly Donfort. A friend of Natasha’s and her boyfriend’s sister," she imagines herself abruptly. Chris even twitches slightly at her sharp tone, "Hi, I’m Chris" responds a bit insecure and shakes her hand. "Haven’t you forgotten something?" explores she further. "Yes, I know, I’m really sorry, I’m just stressed about the subject, the exam is in two days and I don’t understand it yet. Chris offered to help me and I just forgot, "you apologize. "Why do you let Chris help you? You haven’t forgotten who Jake is, have you?" she says cynically. "He’s mad, isn’t he?" you ask in shame and look away. "Of course, think about why, and if you’re watching a movie while you’re in his arms, pack up the phone," the blond-haired gasps. You swallow. You did something wrong. "I didn’t want to hurt you," you mumble.

"Oh you didn’t hurt me directly.This with the meeting isn’t so bad. It’s just about Jake" "Wait, so you have a boyfriend?" Chris asks in between. "Oh, she did," Lilly knocks twice on the table to underline her statement. "The one who looks over here in between with this death look?" he asks amusingly. "What’s funny about that?" Lilly pulls up an eyebrow. "Well, he’s trying to kill me with his looks, as jealous as he seems," Chris explains. "Hey, stop talking so pejoratively about him, okay? He loves me, so he shows," you defend Jake right away. "It’s okay, I didn’t mean to attack you, but I wonder why you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend?" "I didn’t think it was important. I mean, why? That has nothing to do with the university?" astonished you look at him. "Well, I thought if we were meeting, you’d be single?" "Oh no" Lilly chuckles easily, "Here’s a misunderstanding" "Yes, that’s it, I thought there is something between us," Chris shakes his head.

"You have thought wrong," Jake suddenly interrupts you. Without wasting a second, he leans down to you to press his lips on yours.

A goose bump runs over your body, his voice sounds icy and rough. His lips are possessive and the hand in your neck makes sure you can’t leave his lips. But you don’t want it either; this moment should freeze. Each of his kisses is like a piece of heaven.

You get lost in that kiss. Forget everything around you, your thoughts, the people who luckily aren’t too many, Chris, Lilly, the group.

All you feel is your heart racing and your lips tingling. A short moment later, Jake releases you, "I’m sorry for the rudeness" he whispers against your lips.

You smile, "No, I’m sorry, I think we need to talk."

Jake turns his gaze away from you to Chris, but stays close to your face, "I think you can go now" with a mocking grin on your lips. Chris pulls up an eyebrow, "calm down" "Bye" the Hacker growls and waves while Chris puts his laptop in his pocket. "I’ll see you in class tomorrow," Chris turns back to you. "And next time, maybe you should be careful what chemicals you mix together. Anyone who can read is clearly in advantage," Jake pushes another mockery after him.

Jake sighs and puts his eyes back on you, "I won’t apologize," he immediately clarifies. "You don’t have to apologize, I guess I was a little too inattentive in the last few days" "Just a little bit" he jokes and sits down on the chair next to yours. "I should have thought about what I say. And I shouldn’t have ruled you out," you apologize, "and I should have explained to you why I let Chris explain to me how it works, and not from you. l really didn't mean it bad, I just didn’t want to keep you from working.You’re so stressed right now and if I’m honest, Chris' father is also a professor and he teaches my informatics course. And when Chris tells his father that he help me, the father sees that I care. Simple psychology. His father will keep it in mind whether he wants to or not. And honestly, when you explain something, I feel like you’re telling me how to hack the NSA," at the end you chuckle easily.

"Maybe you should talk about it at home. I don’t know if you still want to stay here but I would like to order a coffee now also" Lilly shows to the waitress who stands at the table of the group and writes the orders of the others on a piece of paper.

"You know, actually, it wasn’t bad at all what you did," Jake murmurs. You’re lie half on him, your cheek is squeezed together on his chest while he plays with your hair. "I think I exaggerated, I was too jealous. But you know, I’m a computer nerd, and my girlfriend asks someone else for help with a program on a computer. I know it’s ridiculous, but somehow I felt personally attacked, like that you think he’s better than me. Do you understand?" he asks quietly. "Yeah, of course I understand, but don't think like that, okay? No one is better than you," you pull with your finger small circles on his chest, "And I would have been jealous too. You know, I like Chris as a friend. I didn’t want you to think I was paying too much attention to him. And the fact that I always answered him immediately doesn't mean anything. I wasn’t just looking at my phone because of him," you assured the hacker.

"And I didn’t think it bothered you that much, if I’d understood it before, I wouldn’t have done it. But I should have thought more, then I would have understood it sooner. We should both talk to each other more openly next time, okay?" you suggest and hold your hand towards him. He nods, "Deal!" he puts his hand in yours then shakes it. "I just love you way too much to be able to see someone else at your side. I’m just afraid I’m not good enough for you." "Jake, you’re way too good for me, really. Never think you are not good enough, you are everything and much more, I love you to infinity and beyond." "I love you even more" he whispers, and then turns so that he lies sideways opposite you. He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, "But I still don’t like him" Before you can make a teasing comment, he’s already pressed his lips on yours.

His jealousy is just to sweet :)

🌹🎭

Masterlist

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood Jake x mc #duskwood Jealous!JakexMc #everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood

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gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years ago

Text

September

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, going over and over his syllabus with more care than was strictly necessary. He was certainly no stranger to drafting lesson plans and syllabi and course objectives, never had a problem doing it in the past. But this year was so different than other years had been, and he felt a pang of something he didn’t quite recognize as he thought about reclaiming his place at the front of a classroom.

He sighed, gaze shifting to stare out the window. Their home on the outskirts of the city was surrounded by trees and bushes, shrouded in leaves that were tinged with orange to signal autumn’s approach. It was a quiet, comfortable little house that attracted few visitors and seemed to evade scrutiny from the caped crusader and his cohort. If someone had asked him even a few years ago, Jonathan would have never suspected that he’d ever be a professor again, much less a homemaker. But here he was, unbothered by the law, playing house, and sitting at a kitchen table editing a syllabus like the past twenty years had never happened.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched, head whipping around to see Edward standing beside him. He had clearly just woken up, copper hair mussed and sticking up in all directions. Jonathan noticed one of his old university sweatshirts hanging off the man’s small frame, so oversized that he was nearly swallowed by the grey fabric. His glasses were perched on his pointed nose, an unusual sight given the man’s obsession with showing off his wide green eyes. All natural, he would brag if anyone made the mistake of commenting on them. It was not a claim he could make about many of his other features.

“Been up long?” Edward asked through a yawn, hand traveling up the side of Jonathan’s neck to twist into his hair.

“Few hours.”

“Coffee?”

“There’s a bit left in the pot,” he mumbled, gesturing absently toward the kitchen counter as his focus returned to his laptop. “It’s probably burnt to hell, though.”

“No,” he said. “You. Do you want coffee?”

Jonathan paused. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble,” Edward replied lightly. He massaged Jonathan’s scalp for a moment longer before disentangling his fingers from his hair and padding, barefoot, toward the coffeepot. “It’s your big day, after all.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Nervous?” he asked, fitting a paper filter into the coffee maker and spooning coffee grounds into it.

“Not really.”

“Do you know anything about your students yet?”

Jonathan shrugged, scrolling up and down through the document as if doing so would show him something he hadn’t already seen a hundred times. “Just their names.”

Edward poured water into the pot before closing the lid and plugging it in. “And you’re teaching… six sections?”

“Correct.”

“So that’s, what, a hundred and thirty kids?”

“Something like that.”

He whistled, turning to lean against the edge of the counter. “Lot of people.”

“Are you trying to make me nervous?” Jonathan asked, more sharply than he had intended.

“Not at all. Sounds like it’s working, though.”

“I’m not nervous,” he insisted. “I’ve done this hundreds of times. I know how to teach.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Edward’s lips. “It has been a while, though,” he pointed out. “And you have a very different reputation these days.”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. He did not appreciate all these little reminders from his partner on his so-called “big day”. “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. “I’m shocked they even hired me with my record, let alone put me in charge of upwards of a hundred impressionable young people. It’s absolutely psychotic. But here we are, and I have to be in a classroom in three hours. So will you shut the fuck up and let me finish getting things ready?”

Edward was silent for a few moments as Jonathan glared at his computer screen, clicking aimlessly between tabs and windows. He tried to angle the screen away from Edward so he couldn’t see that he was doing absolutely nothing of import.

Jonathan wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he felt one of his hands being moved away from the keyboard, followed by the warmth of a mug pressed into his palm. Edward’s hand lingered on his, soft fingertips grazing his skin ever so slightly. Jonathan tightened his grip on the cup, pulling away to raise it to his lips. “Thank you,” he muttered, remembering his manners before taking a sip.

“Of course. I want to be the perfect housewife,” he said proudly, sitting down across from Jonathan at the table. “You know, make your coffee, fix your tie, and send you off to work like they do in the movies,” he continued with a broad grin.

“We are not married.”

“Being a housewife is a state of mind,” Edward replied dismissively. “And don’t expect it to last. My domesticity does have its limits.”

“I wasn’t expecting it to even begin,” he said dryly. “So I don’t imagine I will be too bothered when your generosity goes the way of your hairline and begins to recede.”

Jonathan felt something solid smack into his forehead and Edward’s glasses fell with a clatter onto his keyboard, having been folded and used as a projectile. “You’re very irresponsible with your belongings,” he remarked, making no moves to return the item.

“And you’re very rude to your dutiful housewife,” he retorted.

“Yes dear,” he muttered mockingly.

Another blessed moment of silence. Jonathan exhaled a tense sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Normally, he would be enjoying a morning like this. The transition out of the suffocating heat of summer and into the cool, crisp autumn weather was reinvigorating, even enjoyable under normal circumstances. It signaled a return to comfortable clothes and hot drinks and the skeletal arms of trees who had shed their golden leaves for the season. And he wasn’t able to enjoy any of it because he had some annoying brat in his ear reminding him that he had to go back to fucking school. When he had been a professor before, the end of summer usually consisted of a few weeks of sobriety detoxing from all the opiates he used to fill his time during those unbearable months, followed by an intense stimulant bender around the second week of the semester. And, though he knew he was better off without the haze of withdrawal hanging over his head, he couldn’t help but wonder how he would endure a whole school year without the extra bump.

“I was thinking,” Edward said, interrupting his train of thought, “that I could come down around lunchtime. See you between classes.”

“Hm.”

“Would you like that?” he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I could bring you another coffee. Or lunch. Or just keep you company if you’re bored. But if you’re too busy—”

“I think that would be nice,” Jonathan said softly, putting a stop to the other man’s rambling. “I have a break from eleven ten to twelve forty.”

Edward beamed, skin crinkling around his eyes as he smiled. “It’s a date, then.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

#thank u ditty for the suggestion :)#scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #batman #dc #fic #my fic #writing #my writing

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years ago

Text

The Next Move - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: So this takes place between episode three and four of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It deters from cannon a little but I tried to bring it back. Also this isn’t a romantic pairing... at least, not yet.

Word Count: 1.8 K

Notes/Warnings: Attitude and Sass. Mentions of nightmares and dream violence, drinking. I don't think there are any show spoilers in here but I’ll tag it with spoiler tags just in case.

Masterlist

Sharron pulled up to the country Italian home. She parked in the driveway and paused before looking to the three men in her car. “She’s not going to be happy we are here and she’s really not going to be happy when she sees it’s you guys so, maybe don’t talk.” Sharron unfastened her seatbelt and swiftly got out of the car.

They looked at each other before following her up to the quaint little house.

Bucky noticed how Sharron was smiling and looking way too casual.

As if she read his mind she looked back at him, Sam and Zemo and said, in an erie sing-song voice. “Look like you're happy to be here.”

Zemo smiled immediately and Bucky wished he hadn’t seen it. Smiling Zemo was creepy.

Still, he fixed his expression from cautious to pleasant and nodded to Sam who grinned back at him.

This was ridiculous.

Sharron rapped her knuckles five times on the wood frame of the screen door.

“Solo minuto!” A voice from inside the house called in Italian.

They could hear footsteps heading towards the door.

A girl appeared into the hallway holding a bowl and spoon, she hadn’t looked at her front porch yet but froze mid bite when she did.

She locked eyes with Sharron and let her spoon clank back into the bowl. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head and began to turn around.

Sharron knocked again, “Wait, Y/N, please! This is important. I’m calling in a favor.”

Y/N stopped and let her shoulders drop with an exhale. “You only have one left. You sure you wanna use it?”

“I’m sure.”

Y/N straightened her spine and made her way to the door. She unlocked it and held an arm out, gesturing for them to all come in. When she closed the screen door she also closed and locked the front door, making the hallway dark. She pushed past all of them and headed for the living room.

When she made it to the drink cart she turned on Sharron. “ I have two rules Sharron. Two!” She opened a decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a tall glass. “You broke them both and you brought him with you. Of all people, Sharron!”

None of the three men knew who she was referring to.

Sharron nodded. “I know. And you know that I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t important.”

“And why deliver them yourself, huh? You’re doing pretty well out in Madripoor, I hear so why leave?” She finally took a drink.

“Y/N, please if you’d just let me explain-”

Y/N hissed at the sting of the liquor. “I have to move now! I finally have a good client base here and a house I’m actually comfortable in and now I have to leave. Why? Because you broke rule number two.”

Sam leaned into Bucky, “Wonder what the rules are.” He mumbled.

“The rules” She cut in, “Are that one: you call me first. I don’t really do drop in’s. And two: you don’t show up in the daytime.”

Sam nodded. Yeah, they’d broken those rules. “Look, I don’t know who you are but-”

“I know you don’t but the real question is do either of you?” Y/N crossed her arms and looked between Bucky and Zemo.

Suddenly, Bucky realized that she looked familiar but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t place her face.

Zemo took in a breath of subtle epiphany, “Y/N. Y/N Ross, right?”

Y/N’s face soured but she nodded.

Zemo turned to Bucky. “She’s the one who let the two of us meet for the first time.”

He still didn’t recognize her.

“I did my job. You tricked everyone in the building.” She argued.

“This is true.” He nodded with no signs of remorse.

Y/N looked to Bucky then to Sharron. “Why are you here?”

Sharron explained everything. Looking for the serum, finding the doctor before running for their lives, the Power Broker, the Flag-Smashers, all of it. “They need the next move and I don’t have it.” Sharron finished.

By now everyone had settled into a chair or onto one of the couches.

“The next move being?” She nudged the conversation forward.

“We need to get in contact with Karli.” Sam spoke up.

“I don’t have a way to contact her. I don’t deal with people like that.” Y/N said plainly.

“You have contact with people much worse than her.” Bucky guessed. “Which means someone you know has contact with her.”

Y/N studied Bucky for a moment while she decided how to respond.

Sharron cut in before Y/N had the chance to start another argument, “You know a lot of people, Y/N. Surely someone can get them to her.”

Y/N looked at Sharron for the millionth time. “You’re really willing to stick your neck out for these guys, huh?’

Sharron nodded.

Y/N finally relented and sighed.

The trio visibly relaxed. She was going to help.

“How long do you need to stay here?”

“As long as you can give us.” Sharron said.

“Three days. I’ll have to be gone after that.”

“Three days then.” Sam agreed for everyone.

* * * * * * *

Y/n sat in her desk chair in front of half a dozen computer monitors and holographic screens. She sat and worked there for hours. Reaching out to whoever she could toget this task done for Sharron and she’d made it clear that she was only doing it for her.

Bucky and Sam sat in the dining room watching her from a distance.

“Do you remember her at all?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head. “She looks familiar but...not really.”

Sharron brought the two of them a cup of coffee, went back for her own and joined them at the table. “Y/N worked at the Joint Counter Terrorism Center in Berlin. Her uncle is Agent Ross, who took her in after her parents died during the battle of New York. She supervised Barnes when he was detained. It was her job to make sure he ate, had water...and she was also in charge of approving who made contact with him. Zemo slipped in and she only realized something was wrong when she looked through the small window and saw him reading the words from that book.”

Bucky looked back at Zemo who was reading on the couch.

“She didn’t know what to do so she ran to find me. In the chaos, she ended up near the cafes where you- or not you,” She looked to Bucky, “Came stalking towards her.”

Bucky got a sinking feeling in his gut. “I don’t remember her.”

“Because she wasn’t your target. You’d been given a different directive. She stood in your way, she told me that she hoped to possibly stall you a bit.” Sharron huffed a single chuckle. “She’s got guts if anything.”

“What did I do?” Bucky felt that familiar guilt creeping up.

“The Soldier,” Sharron specified, “Threw her through a wall.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He felt like he should remember that.

Sam wanted to console him, to remind Bucky that he and the soldier were two different people, but he knew it wouldn’t change how Bucky felt.

“She later helped me steal the shield and your wings.”

“And that’s why she’s on the run.” Sam realized, “Same as you.”

Sharron nodded.

“So why is she here in Italy? Why not Madripoor?” Sam asked.

“Because she hates big cities!” Y/N called from the other room.

Sharron chuckled and Sam looked around, shocked that she was listening.

* * * * * * * *

Later that night Bucky jolted up from a nightmare, this one about Y/N. He was back in Berlin where Zemo had read the words to him and he came up on her in the cafe. Only this time he shot her. That’s what made him wake up.

He silent padded to the kitchen in hope of getting a glass of water. When his bare feet hit the cold tile he noticed the faint sound of the tapping of a keyboard. He turned the corner and from the doorway saw Y/N still at her computer.

“You’re up late.” She said without looking up.

“Have you been working this whole time?” Bucky asked, turning back to get his glass of water.

“No,” She called to him. “I watched two hours of t.v. around midnight.”

Bucky smirked at that. He returned and pulled up a chair near her desk. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” She yawned.

Bucky sat in silence as he studied everything she was doing. She was in several dark web chats -in multiple languages- with users he didn’t know. All while simultaneously running tracer programs and reviewing satellite images.

She worked for nearly a half hour before she finally spoke again. “So what woke you up?”

Bucky shook his head. “I was thirsty.”

“It’s none of my business, sorry.” She knew he was lying.

“Where will you move to?” He changed the subject.

She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I’m looking at moving to Koh Chang.”

Bucky nodded but felt like it was his fault that she had to uproot and leave.

“But it’s time to move anyways. I was getting too comfortable. Besides I think I’m nearing the ‘escape to a tropical island’ stage of my life.” She said with a grin.

“I-” Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe he was actually making some progress but either way he needed to say something, “I’m sorry for what I did to you... in Berlin.”

“I know.” She stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry for being so cold. I’ve been told I have a bad attitude.” She mocked herself.

Bucky chuckled but sombered pretty quickly when he noticed a scar on her shoulder. “Did I do that?”

Y/N followed his gaze, “Yeah,”

As hard as it was to hear, he appreciated that she was honest and didn’t seem to pity him.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated.

“You don’t have to be.”

He looked up at her, finally tearing his eyes away from the mark he’d unknowingly left on her.

Y/N shrugged. “I let him in. If anything I should be apologizing to you.”

“Lets just call it even, then.” He offered a weak smile.

She took it and returned one. She took a breath to say something when her computer made a soft chime. She whipped her head over and exhaled. “Gotcha. She’s in Riga, Latvia.”

Bucky sat up. They were getting closer.

Y/N stood from her sat and with a swipe of her hand through the air, all of her computers went black. “It’s time for me to get some sleep. I hope finding her helps you find some peace.”

He nodded and looked down at his empty glass. “Thank you.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder as she passed. “I know I was a bit bitter when you first showed up but...most of that was towards Zemo.” She let her hand fall and softened her voice. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Bucky sat there as she walked away. No one had ever said that to him before.

He went back to his room and pulled out his little notebook. He wrote her name down on the list of people he needed to make amends with and then immediately ran a line through it.

Then, for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully.

* * * * * * * *

Forever Tags:

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@peggycarter-steverogers

#Bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #sam wilson #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #sharron carter #helmut zemo #iwillbeinmynest #kate wrote a thing

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years ago

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Sometimes you get called a Bitch at 6 AM

(Vincent and Kauri belong to @ashintheairlikesnow and Dmitri belongs to me)

This is based on an ask for Ash on her page. I decided to write a thing on it. Just cause tiredKauri is just mwah.

Vincent at his dark granite counters, whisking at some batter for pancakes. He did not have to be anywhere until noon today since the Director wants night scenes today. Since Dmitri had to be at his shop, Vincent thought to make him pancakes before he left. It is a quiet morning. Vincent can hear the morning bird chirping their little hearts out outside.

Everything is nice and quiet.

Then, his phone rings.

Vincent presses the answer call on his phone and brings to his ear, "Hello, Shield speaking."

"Bitch."

"Oh hello Kauri, How was your morning?"

"Fuck you, I need your help," Kauri says, voice slightly groggy from sleep most likely. Vincent can hear the sound of water running in the background and the tapping of a shoe on the floor.

Vincent tosses in some chocolate chips and holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder, "Whatcha need?"

"This stupid fucking fine, I can't pay for it and if I tell Nat she might have my neck and Jake is still drugged up on the damned futon that almost closed on him two fucken' days ago!"

Vincent sprinkles a bit of oil on the pan and turns the volume down on his phone a little before replying, "Futon? Did something happen because I'm fairly certain he has a bed because I bought Nat one for Christmas a few years back and she said that she didn't need one so she gave it to Jake."

Kauri rustles something and the sound of probably pots and pans falling onto the floor resonates through the phone. HE listens to Kauri hiss out curses as he shoves stuff away.

Vincent just flips one of the pancakes he poured. Leaning over and starting the coffee, he slides out a few things onto the counter for Dmitri and eventually himself. "Did something happen with Jake?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second!" Kauri snaps before muttering, "Why does Antoni insist on rearranging the whole kitchen once a month." Some more rustling later and Vincent glances over at the clock on the wall, 6:14 am.

Why is Kauri up this early?

Vincent sets the oven to warm and slides his plate inside and Kauri rips apart the house through the phone. Once the noise dies down on Kauri's end, Vincent asks, "What's the fine?"

"Something about unlawful protesting and trespassing but I wasn't even on the damn premises for crying out loud. Fifteen hundred dollars over some fucking fliers and some spite. I should've decked him!" Kauri rants as he walks around and goes through a door, "Fifteen hundred dollars!"

Vincent sets some of the pans quietly in the sink. Then, the sound of tumbling down the stairs and a groan rips his eyes upward. Dmitri stumbles off the stairs and props an arm up on the table.

"I hate your fucking stairs," Dmitri groans as he slides into the chair next to him.

Vincent stifles a laugh and slides the pancakes towards Dmitri, "Good morning, I'm on the phone I'll be back in a minute." Vincent grabs his coffee and steps out into the living room.

It's quiet on the other end for a moment before Kauri chuckles, "Who's that~"

Vincent sighs, feeling the curious mockery he through phone, "Nobody important."

"Nononononono that's not how that works. When NAt told me you were becoming more like me every time she saw you I thought she was joking," Kauri chuckles, "Apparently she was not."

"Kauri..."

He hears Kauri laugh on the end of the phone and the sound of a couch creaking, "So tell me, was he good?"

Vincent takes a sip of his coffee and shakes his head, "He's not a hookup, Kauri. He's just a friend."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Out of my," Kauri pauses, "Alot of hookups most of them I didn't even know their name. So I get it."

"He's not a hookup Kauri, I'm telling you the truth," Vincent mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Do you want me to send Nat the money so she can help you with that or what?"

"Somebodies in denial," Kauri sing-songs, "If he's not tell me his name."

"It's not important Kauri, who do you want me to send the money to or do you want to give me your transfer numbers for your bank," Vincent groans as he leans back into his couch.

"I'll send them later, so what's his---" Kauri says as the sound of knocking dances through the phone "---Who the fuck is here at six in the morning?" Footsteps are followed by, "Laken? What are you doing here?"

"To apologize, for the argument," Vincent hears their voice through the phone.

Vincent looks up to see Dmitri leaning over the couch above him. He gives his tall boyfriend a drowsy smile and pulls the phone away from his ear. Dmitri places a kiss on Vincent's forehead and whispers, "I know you're busy but I'm headed out and I'll call you when I get back."

Vincent smiles, "Looking forward to it."

He returns the phone t his ear to listen to the tail end of, "-He's not even awake yet Laken. Something happened yesterday because he fell asleep with Jake so have a blanket and sleep on the couch I'll wake you when Chris' awake."

Kauri sighs and Vincent can hear him walking up the stairs. Kauri starts a computer and Vincent listens to an old chair creak under Kauri's weight.

"So, Mr. InDenial, what's his name then, Hmmm?" Kauri pokes.

Vincent buckles slightly, "Dmitri." He immediately regrets letting the word slip off his tongue.

"You hooked up with a guy named Dmitri, so was he any good?"

Vincent, now bending under annoyance and tiredness, spills, "No Kauri, he's my boyfrie--- why is this important?"

There's quiet behind the phone and then Kauri laughs, "You. A boyfriend. Holy shit! That... was not something I thought you were capable off."

"Ouch," Vincent mutters, "Please don't tell anyone, we're trying to keep this on the down low, please."

Vincent can figuratively see Kauri rolling his eyes, "Why would you need to do that? Publicity?"

"Publicity is the least of my concerns when it comes to that," Vincent whispers, his voice lowing unconsciously.

Once again, the ear-splitting silence echos through the phone before, "Almost forgot about him."

"Yeah."

The sound of the keyboard clicking brings Vincent back from his memories and into his living room. Vincent's fingers wrap around the edge of one of his pillows and his knuckles whiten.

"I pulled up my details, let me find the routing number- Jake what are you doing out of bed!" Kauri quietly yells.

Jake says something but the words don't register through the phone.

Kauri sounds annoyed when he answers, "I've already dealt with it, get your ass back in bed. I'll join you when I'm done with this bullshit. No- Go back to bed."

Vincent sets down the phone so Kauri can tell Jake what to do in peace. He exhales and now really wants Dmitri to come back.

"I don't know how Jake does this shit, every damn day," Vincent hear Kauri groan through the phone. He picks it back up and listens, "Getting up every day at the ass crack of dawn... and this isn't even the hardest part of the day and I already wanna sleep."

"Yeah," Vincent says breathless, "I can't imagine having to care for that many people. Hell, I can barely for the couple I have."

I can barely care for myself.

"Nat's gone dealing with Jameson. Jake was fucking stabbed! Chris is off in college and back for some reason, something happened too. Laken just materialized. Antoni hasn't been acting right and- fuck I just need a break," Kauri says, "I'm not good at being the one everyone relies on."

Vincent sighs, "It's not fun, having to worry about so many people and, at the same time, them worrying about you. I can't really help you directly with that but I know a place that doesn't ask questions. They serve coffee and scones there and, if you want, I can get you coffee one morning. To get away from the madness for a morning."

Kauri says nothing for a moment. A few breaths pass before Vincent hears a mouse click.

"No."

Click.

A second later, Vincent receives a text with a handful of numbers. He makes a mental note to send over the money as soon as possible. Standing up, he walks back to the kitchen and grabs his breakfast.

Kauri stayed on his mind for a while after that.

#vincent shield #dmitri o'brian #vince tries #kauri is also trying #just at something different

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

Text

Sick Days [BEN Drowned x Reader]

Summary: When a creepypasta manages to crawl into your home through a computer, people usually scream and call the police. You? Well, it's just another normal day for you.

Genre: Fluff, Horror, Humor

Date: June 20, 2015

-----

You sat in your room with the expression of utter boredom painted on your features, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on the table next to your open laptop. You grunted as your computer went into hibernation mode again and tapped the spacebar to reawaken the screen. Your bedroom window was wide open, allowing the evening breeze to float into your adobe and gently rustle the papers on your table. Fading streaks of sunlight peeked through your fluttering curtains, caressing your body with soft warmth.

Despite the serene atmosphere that had settled into your semi-messy room, your features were soon twisted into a grimace. The fingers that had been trailing along the table began drumming a steady rhythm, growing quicker and more impatient by the second. You glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and read the blaring red numbers 6:23 PM. You scowled, annoyed. "Ugh, where is that little rascal?" You muttered, tapping your keyboard again and watching irefully as your homescreen popped up again. Ben usually arrived before sundown, but the sun was already halfway down the horizon. Ben probably would've taunted you for being so worked up over his absence, and you, being a little short tempered, would probably fall for his teasing and would have exploded into a mess of jumbled profanities. Though many would describe your actions now as "eager," you recalled how petrified you were when Ben first popped out of the fossilized desktop your dad insisted they brought when your family moved. That day, your mother and father had been visiting a sick relative in the hospital, and couldn't come home for the night. You, feeling free and a little daring, decided to stay up the entire night watching horror flicks in your livingroom. Although you felt the terror of eight marathoned horror movies shake you to your core, you persisted, jumping at every little noise from the movie and from your creaky home. That's why, when you witnessed the forgotten computer in the corner of the livingroom fizz and flicker on and off, you froze in unfathomable fear, merely staring as a deathly pale hand clawed it's way out of a jumble of binary code and pixels. By the time a head of tousled white hair and pitch black eyes with crimson irises emerged from the screen, you were already halfway out the door, knowing better than to trap yourself in your own bedroom. You would've spent the night at a neighbor's house, but your closest neighbor must have been at least a mile away- being that your family decided to move into the suburbs. Unfortunately for you, who was secluded in the pitch black of the night with god-knows-what in your house, it was pouring outside. In your mad scramble for salvation, you had not grabbed the keys to your house. You had originally settled for the plan to stay in the freezing rain, (it was definitely a safer bet than being in the house) but alas, the hours spent watching scary movies finally took its toll on you, and had made you paranoid to every small rustle and crunch. (In truth, it was just the trees.) This terror had driven you to crawl up some old growths of ivy on the side of your home, feeling blessed to find your bedroom window open just a crack- allowing you to pry the rest of the window open. Halfway through your window, you looked up- only to become blatantly horrified. There the white-haired boy was, floating in the middle of the room with bleeding eyesockets- as if he had been waiting for your arrival. Overcome with panic and surprise, you allowed the wet soles of your feet slip out from under you, sending your drenched body sailing face-first towards the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your nose took the brunt of the fall, and erupted in a mess of blood upon impact. The pain of a shattered nose did little to deter you from the thing in your room. Holding your nose with both hands, you scrambled to press yourself against the wall- as far away from that demon-ghost-thing as possible. But when you looked back up, you were shocked to find it trying desperately to hold back laughter, it's eye twitching from the effort. The corner of it's mouth was twitching toward a smirk, and it's eyes were betraying it's stoic expression- it wanted to laugh at you! You shot to your feet, prepared to duke it out with the hovering monster- only to slip a second time on the rainwater that you had tracked into your room. This time, your head collided hard with the frame of your bed, and you blacked out. You woke up the next morning with a wrapped head and a bandaged nose. It turns out your parents had returned from their little trip and found you lying in a puddle of your own nosebleed- which sounds as humiliating as it felt- and had patched you up. After you told them about what you had seen, your parents merely laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the head, claiming that the stress of moving and lack of sleep had to do with your "hallucinations." You would've believed them, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy showed up in your room again. You fell asleep while using your laptop and when you awoke, you found the pale-haired boy freeing his foot from your computer screen. Though you were sure that the white-haired monster returned to finish you off, you found him simply pointing his finger at your wrapped up face and cackling at you, tears budding in the gaping holes that were his eyes. You felt your face burn with embarrassment, and though you should have called for help, you simply sat there, allowing the strange being to laugh at your misfortune. After what felt like an eternity he retreated back into your computer, still snickering- leaving you bewildered and dazed. He later introduced himself as Ben Drowned over a cyberchat website named "Cleverbot," and you learned his story, as well as the fact that he could teleport just about anywhere that held an electronic device. Later that night, you awoke to a flooded room. With your heart pummeling with fear, you gasped and flailed for breath, desperately searching for a way out. You were less than pleased to find Ben on the screen on your open laptop- which was, for some reason, still working under water. His shoulders shook with muted laughter, doubling over with the hilarity he found in your pitiful predicament. As soon as it started, it was gone. The water that had once filled your room was gone, leaving everything unscathed in it's wake. Once you found mobility in your limbs again, you stormed to your laptop (which still contained the laughing freak) and took out the battery, taking away the laptop's source of life. You stormed about your house, rampaging in the middle of the night to turn off or unplug any source of electricity you could- the phones, the computers, televisions- even the dusty desktop. Despite the complaints of your confused parents, you were at peace. Since you had cut off any source of electricity, (other than the lights) that pesky elf hadn't bothered you- probably because he couldn't. However, your happiness was short-lived. Upon returning from school one day, you found that your parents had somehow reconnected everything before going to work- leaving you with two things: electricity, and an angry Ben. You had no idea how you did it, but you managed to convince Ben not to suck you into the netherworld or kill you- With minimal damage to the house. Before you placated him, Ben had flown into a livid tantrum, tossing tables and pictures to-and-fro with some unseen force, only ceasing when you promised that you would keep all electronics plugged in- thus allowing him to drop in any time he liked. Since then, the white haired boy with red irises visited routinely each day without intentions to scare you, though you were still unnerved by his presence at first. As if he sensed your uneasiness, Ben began to annoy you. Ceaselessly. Day after day, he knocked over decorative vases, messed up your room, taunted your occasional bad grades, and in all: irked the hell out of you. Yet here you were, waiting for his arrival like some kind of goddamned puppy. "What. Ever." You hissed through clenched teeth, standing up from your computer table, "Maybe he got bored of me. He's been visiting me for... God knows how long already...Good riddance." Despite your words, you felt a twinge of sadness prick your heart like a fine-tipped needle. Though he was undoubtedly aggravating most of the time, you had liked him company. Just a little. You sighed, the beams of twilight cast your shadow across the floor. "I should prepare some microwaveable dinner, my parents are working overtime today." As you sulked slowly towards your bedroom door, a loud crash and the sound of loud static pierced your eardrums, making you leap several feet into the air and scramble for the doorknob, storming downstairs to find the source of the noise. You were both annoyed and relieved to find Ben crawling out of the screen of the old desktop, though your annoyance went out the window once you spotted his shaking arms on the edge of the screen, as if he couldn't support his own weight. You extended a hand out to him, flinching as he finally managed to haul himself out of the mess of codes, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ben?" You inquired, peering at his crumpled form. "Are you okay...?" You knelt down next to him, touching his shoulder gently. "Ben?" At your voice, the creepypasta turned to look at you weakly before sniggering quietly- which worried you a bit. "What are you doing in my house?" You raised an eyebrow. "Ben, this is my house. Not yours." Ben, who had a pinkish hue to his pale cheeks, took a look around before the realization dawned upon him. "Oh, right. I'll be going then." You watched as the usually boisterous entity struggled to get back onto his feet, only to fall down again. This time, however, you caught him. Once his body made contact with your arms, you nearly shrieked. The back of his neck was burning hot, and the rest of his body was strangely warm- just like an overheated computer. "Ben-" You adjusted your hold on him, (he was a lot heavier than he looked) "Ben, are you sick?" Ben glared at you weakly. "No." You sighed, exasperated. His pride was going to be the death of him one day. You placed a gentle palm his forehead, cringing at the impossibly high temperature you felt. "Ben, you have a high fever. A bad one." The said person clicked his tongue and turned his face away, looking irritated. "That explains why I felt like shit the whole day." You couldn't help but snicker as you carried him to the couch, "That also explains why you didn't think of visiting me today." "Get off your high-fucking-horse, princess." Ben scowled, trying in vain to look threatening. "You should be thankful that I visit you everyday." You rolled your eyes, placing him softly on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for gracing me with your presence everyday, dumbass." You swore you heard Ben grumble something under his breath, but you were already too far up the stairs to hear. You returned with several pillows, a thermometer and some pills from the bathroom cabinet, determined to nurse Ben back to health. Though he was an annoying turd most of the time, there were rare moments where he comforted you in times of need- though most of the time, his offers to help just involved murdering someone, which you kindly refused. ("Killing people isn't the solution to everything, you freaking moron!") Now, it was your turn to help him. With an abundance of pillows in your arms, you urged him to sit up for a second (which he did with an anguished groan) and slipped four or five behind him, ensuring his comfort. You went into the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water to drink with the medicine. To be honest, you weren't quite sure if human medicine worked on creepypasta such as Ben, but it was all you had. "Ben, come on, you need to take some medicine." He scoffed at you. "Get your Earth pills away from me. You know just as well as I do that those won't work for me." You knelt next to him on the floor next to the couch and uncapped the bottle, shaking two pills out of the container and nudging him up. "You're right. I don't know if it'll work, but it's the only thing I have, so just suck it up and take them." "Get away from me." He hissed. "Ben..." You said, your tone threatening, "Don't make me unplug everything again." At this, Ben's hollow eyes narrowed, the red specks of light in them piercing into your skull. "You wouldn't dare." You gulped, feeling a cold sweat accumulate at his intense gaze. You steeled yourself and glared right back at him. "Try me." Grudgingly, Ben accepted the pills and sat up. Before you could stop him, he threw the pills in his mouth and began to chew. You froze, holding the cup of water in your hand and staring at him with wide eyes. You had made the same mistake of chewing those pills when you were younger, prior to figuring out that you could use water to wash them down. To be frank, those pills could cause more damage than a fever if not taken with water- they were horrendously bitter, and nearly caused you to puke. Just as you thought, Ben gradually stopped chewing, turning even paler than he already was- if possible. Though his face showed no emotion, you could almost feel the bloodthirsty aura that washed off of him, obviously not too pleased with the taste. You wasted no time in shoving the glass of water in his hands, urging him to drink. The water was gone before you could even blink, and Ben held the front of your shirt with an intent of death in his eyes. "You-" He stuttered, his face tinted red from anger, "You-" You braced yourself for whatever might come, but surprisingly, the grip on your shirt loosened, and Ben flopped back down unceremoniously, letting the pillows swallow his lean body. "Oh, whatever... Why would humans invent something so horrible to heal a sickness? If anything, that just made me sicker..." You smiled nervously, feeling the slightest bit guilty. "Er, it's my fault... I should have told you about the water sooner..." Ben scowled faintly. "Damn right you should've." You whispered a low "sorry" before wringing the wet towel, placing the cool cloth on Ben's head. This pulled a sigh of satisfaction from his lips, his eyes fluttering closed with contentment. You uncapped the thermometer, clicking the "ON" switch before turning back to Ben. "One last thing before you rest, Ben. I need your temperature." Ben didn't even bother to open his eyes or complain- which surprised you. Without hesitation, he simply opened his mouth. You found yourself smiling endearingly at his actions: it was like handling a stubborn child- all you had to do was get past his hard shell. Taking Ben's temperature was a little bit of a struggle, since the digital screen glitched and spazzed out once it made contact with him. However, once you had taken his temperature, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. The little pixels, occasionally glitching, read "105.7° F. " After discovering this little fact, you urged him to sleep for a bit- feeling a bit panicked. After the third time of telling him to just relax and sleep, Ben snapped at you. "If you tell me to go to sleep one more time, I'll call Jeff up here and tell him to put you to sleep." Though you knew this was an empty threat, it still shut you up. You had heard a lot about Jeff the Killer, and though some of your friends were obsessed with him, you weren't too keen on meeting him. After turning on the fan in hopes to cool Ben down, you settled back next to him on the floor, watching his uneven breathing. After a few moments of staring, Ben's eyes snapped open, feebly glaring at you before it turned into a smirk. "Sweetheart, I know i'm good looking- but if you're gonna stare, at least do something that can excuse you from it." You blinked and furrowed your brows, feeling embarrassed but relieved. It sounded like he was feeling a bit better- but was that really a good thing for you? Silently, you lifted a hand and began combing it through his silvery hair, knocking his hat astray. However, Ben didn't seem to mind. In fact, he completely ignored his hat and turned away from you, as if he were hiding his face. Despite his best efforts, you spotted a pinkish tint on his cheeks that extended to his ears- and you were sure it wasn't because of the fever he had. You watched him with soft eyes and continued your small ministrations, wondering how he had gotten sick in the first place. Before long, Ben had fallen asleep to your touch and the low hum of the fan. Sighing breathily, you gave the sleeping boy a thoughtful look. You didn't understand why he had kept the routine of visiting you everyday, but you weren't about to complain. Moving was no easy task, it included making new friends and leaving the old ones behind. Your socializing skills weren't your strongest suit, and although you tried your best, it was difficult to keep a conversation with someone at school- you feared their judgement. Though you knew most of the people at school didn't mean any harm to you, it was still a little scary for you to be cast out into a new environment so suddenly, it made you feel vulnerable. And although Ben had scared the pants off of you at first, you slowly began to realize that your arguments and chats with him didn't make you tense or anxious. Perhaps you could even go as far as to say he made you the slightest bit happy. You continued to play with his hair for a little while before removing your hands, observing him carefully. It was true that Ben was relatively handsome, though you would rather die than admit that to him. His white hair and pale complexion gave him the look of a hauntingly beautiful angel, though his eyes were dark and devilish, always seeming to hold only the most malicious of intentions. While he was awake, his countenance was usually twisted into a smirk or a sneer- which didn't exactly make him more attractive, but definitely did not take away from it, either. However, as he was asleep, you couldn't help but notice how strikingly bewitching he looked without the usual grimace. His long, white eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones, colored pale pink with his fever. Though you hadn't noticed it previously, it was almost unnerving how captivating Ben was. With his sleek, graceful features relaxed, you almost wouldn't have been able to guess that he was such a cunning gremlin while he was awake. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering to his lips, which were slightly parted with his steady inhales and exhales. Just like the rest of his body, his lips were deathly pale, and slightly chapped- though they still looked inviting. You blushed and averted your eyes upon realizing how inappropriate your thoughts were. Ben was horribly sick and helpless, yet here you were, daydreaming about... A kiss... You covered your face, feeling humiliation wash over you in waves. Ben would probably laugh himself to death if he knew what you were thinking. The mere thought of being with Ben was impractical within itself, since there was no way monsters like him were even capable of feelings, right...? Your train of thought was halted when you heard the silverette groan lowly from across you. You peered out from your hands with questioning eyes, wondering if you had woken him up with the intensity of your staring. (Was that even possible, though?) He wasn't awake. His eyes were still sealed shut, but his mouth was twitching, as if he were trying to say something. You leaned in closer, watching attentively. Did he want water? A colder towel? More pillows? Suddenly, much to your shock, your name erupted from his lips, sounding like a cross between a groan of irritation and a plea. Then, he was silent again. You felt a warmness in your body emitting from the center of your stomach, and before long, you found yourself smiling at Ben. He was asleep, so it wouldn't hurt too much, right...? Slowly, you leaned forward and brushed back some of his soft locks, marveling at how pretty his face was. With such a small distance between you two, you could smell his scent- a distinct smell of static and coconut. Gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft, feverish skin on your own mouth. As you pulled away, you found a hand on the back of your head, pulling you back in. Wide eyes registered as Ben tilted his head, and his lips met yours, watching your bewildered expression with groggy, half-lidded eyes before he closed them, pressing his lips harder against your own. His mouth was burning hot, no doubt it was because of the fever, but it made the kiss even harder to resist. With flushed cheeks, you allowed your eyes to slip shut as well, returning the gentle pressure lightly. You noted that Ben was being unusually careful as he cupped your face, as if you were made of fragile glass that would shatter at any moment. You smiled at this, and brushed the side of his cheek with the back of your hand endearingly. He pulled away and you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word in, his lips descended upon yours again, his tongue sweeping over your already open lips and tickling the roof of your mouth. You squeaked a bit at this, and he pulled back, his hand still on your cheek, opening his eyes to take in your reddened face and light panting. And then you saw it. It surprised you more than the kiss did- and perhaps more than his first appearance did. Ben smiled. It was a genuine smile, albeit small, unlike the smirks and half-grins he gave you all the time. This time, his lips curled naturally, softening his scarlet eyes a twinge. The hues of twilight poured in from the window and washed over both of you, bathing both of you in a beautiful gradient of a fading pink, yellow and orange. You should have scolded him for kissing you while he was sick, but you couldn't find the heart to ruin the mood. Instead, you smiled back at him, leaning into the hand that remained on your cheek. There, in the wake of the lingering sun, you discovered that what once was your greatest fear was also your greatest treasure.

#creepypasta #ben drowned #legend of zelda #fanfiction #reader insert #ben drowned x reader #old work

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eye-raq · 4 years ago

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Ember.

Chapter One.

This is an old series that I haven’t touched in forever, probably almost a year now. Since my Wattpad got deleted, the chapters that I had linked there from Tumblr was also deleted. I’m glad that I uploaded to a03 with some chapters so am gonna post the chapters here for those who want to read it again or for first time readers. Enjoy!

Hi. It’s me, Ember. Glad you could join me tonight.

She moaned softly, audio on his Mac Book giving her voice the perfect mixture of allure and innocence. The only light that ignited the space between him was the computer and the little desk lamp that occupied his workspace. The clock read approximately 10:00 PM---right on cue like it had been for the past month now. He sat relaxed on his black leather swivel desk chair, legs spread and dark green sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His dark brown eyes covered in his gold-rimmed specs scanned the computer screen, watching her shadow dance across her walls lit by candlelight. Her bedroom was her main source, and the camera aimed straight ahead overlooking a bed that was covered in gold silk, steps on either side leading up to the mattress like royalty, and a large headboard behind it littered with many candles. He waited with little patience, fingertips grazing the keyboard. His chest heaved when he saw her cocoa colored legs come into view, draped in a black silk robe. She giggled, most likely from the many viewers that were tuning in to watch her put in work. Erik scanned her background, eyes falling on the different movie posters that covered her walls and used easels that were lined up against the lower walls. He guessed briefly that she must be an artist, deciding to store that thought in his long-term memory. Miss Ember focused the camera towards the bed more, before laying her curvy body in the middle of the mattress, black silk robe halfway open and nipples hard pressing against the fabric.

she giggled lightly, “I see we have some eager viewers tonight.” She rubbed her pillowy thighs together slow, red painted toenails curling among each other.

“So, what do you wanna see tonight you greedy men.”

Her lips were painted in glitter tonight and her curly hair lay messily over her shoulders. Erik rubbed at his lower abs slow, mind wondering how her eyes looked since she decided to keep them out of view. Her nose had a small hoop ring in it, and her ears were covered in them too. She had the most beautifully crafted natural body he had ever seen, her curves whining and grinding in the camera purposely. She picked up her favorite purple rhinestone wand, rubbing her hands over it slow, “You wanna see me warm up a bit Daddy?”

She spread her legs, slipping the wand along her slit slow, teasing him. She didn’t give too much away which had Erik damn near screaming in his chest. Come on, baby, stop teasing daddy, He whispered low, legs swinging because of his growing erection.

“Daddy needs to be patient” She whispered as if she were talking directly to him.

She shuffled on her mattress, picking up her phone, sliding through. In the background, a sensual instrumental played out and her teeth grazed her bottom lips lightly. She took no time to remove her robe, her black lace lingerie set coming into view. Damn, Erik spoke low, digging his thumb into the waistband of his sweats. She hummed in a melodic tone, and it sounded almost princess-like as she lay on her belly, her ass facing the camera wiggling it slowly.

“Daddy, make sure you keep your eyes on this thick ass, okay?” She arched her back into the view of the camera, the material sinking in between her cheeks. “Does my daddy like what he sees?” She took her red painted nails, running it along her pussy from behind.

Daddy likes alright. Erik lifted his hips from the chair, lowering his sweats and briefs taking no time to pull out his throbbing dick, gripping it firmly. He stroked it slowly, feeling his limbs twitch after every stroke.The chimes from the many notifications she was receiving rang out multiple times. She twerked her ass in the camera, turning her head a little towards the screen her eyes still shielded. She had a cute gold chain around her neck that hung loosely in between her lips, her tongue grazing it seductively. She paused, thumbing her panties to the side causing one of her shiny lips to peak out like a blooming flower pedal. Erik groaned deep, gripping his full bottom lip with his teeth hard.

“Oh Daddy..”

she lowered the rest of her panties slow, finally letting the fabric rest at the crease behind her knees. That pussy. Erik was always at a loss when he saw it. How she managed to swallow the thick toys she possessed was astounding. It was of a reddish pink color, her lips like milk chocolate that hugged her clit so perfectly. Her inner lips rested against her insides like two half’s of a rose and the shine of it reflected off of her camera. Erik’s mouth watered, and he tried to slow his motions around his dick but it was really fucking hard when Ember looked the way she did.

“Daddy I’m so fucking wet already and I didn’t even do nothing yet.”

She reached up to stroke her lips, drawing her fingers back with separation, the slimy wetness sticking to them like glue. She brought her fingers to her glittery lips, sucking each finger so rough you could hear the suction through the speakers. So fucking nasty. How does that pussy taste huh baby? Erik ran his free hand along his solid chest, eyes never blinking, focusing on her motion without so much as a flicker. She sat up on her knees, her plump ass twerking slow, face shielded by her wild mane, her hands digging into the silk. She turned towards the camera slow, her lips and round button nose in view, tongue scraping across her glitter lips.

“So fucking good daddy, I wish you were here…why’d you leave me huh?” She reached under her, fingers grazing her clit causing her to hiss low, “why’d you leave me behind to take care of myself?”

Daddy wishes he was there lovely…I sware I do.

Erik jerked his stiff dick quick, causing his limbs to rise and shake, before slowing down again running his thumb over his swollen head, pre-cum gliding over the pad of his thumb.

Fuckkkk girl..

Erik lifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose, head leaning to the side in awe, eyes trying to read her from a different angle. She laid her body down slow, turning so that her pussy was in view. Her head tilted to the side on her mattress, full face finally coming into view of the camera causing chimes to ring out, which caused Erik to even hit the like button a couple of times in succession. She had a lace masquerade mask on, with cat ears, and Erik squinted his eyes to try and catch the full frame of her, but she timidly tilted her chin into the crook of her neck, making it a little harder to see. Her fingers were deep in her pussy now, damn near digging over her g spot. The noise of her motions filled the room so loud it made Erik pause his strokes just to admire her. He leaned into the computer, eyes glued to her fingers digging into her sweet cavern, legs spread wide and toes curled. If it was possible to get a taste from licking the screen he would, and his tongue was damn near soaked from the thought of it. “Oooo,” her innocent sounding voice moaned out as she thumbed her clit along with stroking her entrance, head turning from the camera lost in her motions.

“Daddy taste me..” she was whispering low now lost in her actions.

“Daddy punish me..” Erik’s hand was back to his dick now, no care at all that he stroked it quick.

“Daddy fuck me…please” She damn near begged as if he were in that room, and Erik couldn’t take it.

He wanted so bad to bury his dick all the way to her cervix. He just wanted to keep it there and fall asleep with it there, and whenever she moved, he would pump her fast and quick making her cum and cum until she couldn’t give him any more rain; until she was drained.

I love how you want daddy to punish you…

He was breathless now, air leaving his nose quick, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk tight. He jerked his hips to match her fingers pumping quick, her body leaning to one side, suspended in the air, fingers digging and her palm smacking against her pussy.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Erik knew she was close. He could tell by the way her fingers shook, and the way her pretty chubby toes curled every which way in a frenzy. Her heavy chest heaved and she began to wheeze. Erik leaned back in the chair, jerking like crazy, his legs spread wide and his free hand gripping his shoulder for leverage. He lowered his head, eyes squeezed and his mouth agape in shock. He was about to have a big nut, and all of this was because of her.

“Ahh, Daddy. Daddy. Daddyyy!”

She clenched her lingers, crying out. Her liquid poured from her, and like a greedy person, she was rubbing her clit still, causing small bursts to escape her. Erik soon after felt that familiar tug, leaning back in the chair wildly before releasing his seed all over his Lower belly. He shook as he was coming down from his high, lifting his hand to wipe it on his pubic hair. He leaned his head back, eyes falling on her as she placed her fingers in her mouth. She sucked them deep to the point where she was making herself gag, and clearly, the viewers couldn’t get enough of that.

That pussy is fire girl.

Erik sat up in his chair, watching her lift to her knees, her heavy breasts damn near looking at him, her hands brushing her hair from her shoulders. She giggled, her smile wide with these cute little dimples on the sides of her mouth.

“thank you, I do it for you Daddy,” she responded to her viewers the way she knew they liked but it only made Erik feel possessive.

She reached over to pick up her favorite dildo, the one Erik had to admit reminded him of his dick. Maybe it was from the fantasy of wanting to ram his dick in her that made him comparing his dick to the toy, but either way, he rather imagined it that way. He could feel his dick twitching against his thigh, clearly ready for round two and he patiently waited, taking his sticky fingers typing out a message for her to see.

TheGoldenJaguar: Daddy really enjoyed your little show but he’s not finished with you yet 😈

Erik sat back, tongue poking out to grazing the side of his lower lip. Ember gripped her dildo at its base, wrapping her fingers around the balls. She tongued the tip in slow circles, lace covered eyes wide and innocent in the camera. She wrapped her lips around the tip, moaning from the contact while her head bobbed in a circular motion. She popped her mouth off of the toy, spitting a generous amount on it to make it wet.

“When I say I love sucking your dick daddy,” she giggled, biting her lips before sinking further onto the thick toy, her jaws sinking and her eyes never leaving the screen.

Erik damn near lost it. She sucked it that well that it almost felt like she was taking his soul. It almost felt like she was aiming to suck him dry and leave him hungry and weak. He kept his eyes on her like he was staring down at her through his dreads, hands stroking her hair, gripping it tightly, instructing her to keep those pretty doe eyes on him. His thumb grazed his lower lip in concentration, eyes low and hungry.

“Clearly my mouth needs to be filled.”

Ember lowered her mouth onto the dick, burying it to her throat. She kept it there, coughing a little as she sucked lower. Erik grunted, wrapping his arms around his head as he watched her suck that toy like it was running away from her. Spit seeped from her mouth and trailed down the middle of her chest, gagging on the toy with no complaint.

You better suck that fucking dick girl.

Erik jerked his leg to calm himself from gripping his dick. He shook his head in awe as she twirled her tongue around the toy, finally releasing it from her mouth, a trail of spit leaving her plump mouth.

“Did daddy like that?”

Fuck Yes.

“Mmm, Daddy, my pussy is dripping from this dick.”

Ember laid back on the bed, gripping her wand in her hand letting the dildo sit against her wet pussy. She turned on the vibrator, increasing the speed of it. Erik’s hand wasn’t the slightest tired as he jerked again, eyebrows knitted together from just the sight of her alone. He had to have this girl. One way or another he had to have her. She spread her legs wide, leaning them back further with her arms, her head lifting to get a view of the camera. She flicked her tongue over her upper lip, her brown eyes zeroing in on him. He stared back, bringing his hand to cup his balls squeezing them lightly. She took her fingers and spread her lips, her swollen clit poking out like a present. Erik wanted to suck on it so fucking bad, he had to bite his palm to control his tongue. He imagined her writhing and pleading beneath him, his arms holding her in place as he sucked her clit repeatedly, letting her cum into his mouth. He knew her cum had to taste like sweet nectar, and the skin of her inner folds feel like satin against his tongue. Shit, I just want you to sit on my face baby girl..suffocate me.

She rested the wand on her clit gently, her eyes instantly fluttering as if she was possessed, body jerking.

“Daddy, my clit..” she bit at her lip tight, elbows pressing into her legs to keep them apart. She was gonna take all of it, and she was gonna make sure he got the show of his life.

“Daddy, it’s vibrating right on my clit..” she was at a loss, her mouth parted and her eyes fighting to stay focused on the screen

“Daddy, get in me please…” she gripped the dildo with her other hand, bringing it to her entrance letting it slide into her slowly. She froze, her throat going tight and her toes pointing up towards the ceiling.

Daddy got you, baby, I promise I got you. Ima take care of that pussy. Don’t worry princess…

Erik reclined back against his chair, sweaty body sticking to the leather. He kicked off the rest of his sweatpants, legs finally free as he jerked madly. He couldn’t take the feel of the hot leather anymore so he decided to stand, dick pointed at the computer screen almost aiming at her entrance.

Stroke that nasty pussy… that’s it… fuck that shit up girl I’m not playing witchu.

She stroked her pussy and held the wand over her clit, making herself a thriving quivering mess. She was moaning louder now, damn near blowing out Erik’s speakers with her pleads. She shook her head at the feeling, speaking in tongues, wiggling on the bed in a frenzy. She focused her eyes on her pussy eyebrows frowned in concentration, damn near forcing the wand heavily on her clit.

“OH!”

She lifted the wand from her clit, releasing the dildo, her entrance quivering and growing tight as she stilled, head falling back.

Nah, put that shit back on your clit girl, you wanted this you gon’ finish for daddy

Erik waited, chest heaving with his dreads stuck to his sweaty forehead and his glasses fogged. She rested the wand back to her clit, crying out loud, her lower body tilting from the bed again.

“Oh, oh, shit. Omg,” she lifted it again, her head falling back on the mattress. She smacked at her pussy softly, causing her body to jerk.

“Daddy it’s so fucking strong..”

Ember lowered it slowly to her clit again, her body automatically tensing up as she dug her nails into her thighs, scraping her skin. She moved her body a little but it only made it worse causing her to cover her mouth tight, her pussy tilting to the view of the camera. she wiggled from side to side, eyes watering up underneath the lace, limbs shaking. The waterfall that followed was one to remember and Erik had to control his motion by gripping his dick tight. He let out a loud growl as her liquid soaked the silk beneath her. He threw his head back, blowing air through his cheeks in frustration. He wanted to fuck her little ass up so damn bad. He wanted to fuck her guts up, grip her neck tight, repeatedly pound her tight pussy over and over. He couldn’t take it, and he never needed a girl as bad as her.

I wanna stick my dick in this girl so fucking bad, bruh...

His back muscles flexed as he watches her body relax, that same light giggle coming back. She bit at her finger, eyes glued to the screen. The chimes and likes were off the charts and she blushed crimson from the attention causing Erik to obsess even more than he already had.

“You still got one more nut in you daddy?”

Ember gripped her dildo, getting up from the bed. She picked up her camera, aiming it towards her hardwood floor, placing the suction of the dildo there. She kneeled her thick ass over the dildo, jiggling a little before sinking down onto the toy. She hissed low, giving her ass a hard smack before bouncing on the toy like it was the real deal. Erik jerked madly again, his free hand gripping the edge of the desk as he leaned further into the computer. The air from his lungs suspended in his throat, and his eyebrows were scrunched in passion. He felt so good and he didn’t want it to end, watching her bounce on her dildo, the wetness from her pussy glistening it, working that toy like she needed it.

fuck that toy up girl DAMN.

Erik closed his eyes in concentration, his motions becoming more and more sloppy as he jerked his long dick rough. He wanted to meet his end with her like he always did, greedily accepting two orgasms from watching her. She bounced harder, her head falling and her hair shielding her face. Her ass was non-stop and the arch in her back had drizzles of sweat falling there. Erik wanted to lick her skin and pussy clean with his needy tongue and it made him want to cum even harder.

fuck… I just wanna cum.

He was moaning now, jerking his hips with his motions.

“Daddy I need you to cum for me.”

His entire being focused in on her words. “Cum for me daddy I want that shit deep in me.”

She looked back at the camera, her eyes low and lustful.

“Daddy I deserve it don’t I?”

yes you do

“I deserve to be fucked like this don’t I?”

mmmm, FUCK yes…

“What else do I deserve for being a good girl daddy?” She slammed down hard on the dick, voice rising.

You deserve to cum all over that fucking dick.

His lower belly began to tighten, and so did hers.

“I deserve to cum daddy? because I wanna cum so fucking bad.”

She lowered her body, hands spread against the floor, the strength of her hips rocking along the dildo.

“Daddy…yes… YES, DADDY. yes… its cumming”

She bit at her forearm eyebrows knitted.

shit baby Daddy cumming too…

Erik threw his head back body stiffening

FUCKKK!!!!

He jerked forward roughly, his cum flying and spilling all over the computer screen, dripping right over her ass She stilled over the dildo, face cradled in the crook of her arm, liquid, and cream dripping and pooling around her. Both Erik and Ember were still, breathing uneven and horse. Erik sat down on his chair, sinking into the leather weakly. She lifted from the floor, grabbing up her camera, and placing it back where it was.

“Well. Daddy, that was really good,” She rubbed at her sweaty skin, “We can pick up where we left off tomorrow okay?”

She blew a kiss at the camera, waving seductively before leaning forward, ending the live video. Erik sat still, eyes glued to his cum covered screen, before tilting his head back, eyes focused on the sky view of his LA home.

Fuck.

Erik spoke in barely an audible,

Does she really live in New York?

#killmongrer #killmonger smut #Erik Killmonger #black panther killmonger #nahimjustfeelingit #eye raq

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

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This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will.

This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.

So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.

Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.

I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.

I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.

My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.

I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.

I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.

I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.

It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.

Hello?

Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—

I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.

I thought you wanted to know?

I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.

Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?

I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.

I thought you wanted to know?

Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.

I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.

I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?

And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?

Well. Now I do.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #can you tell i've been listening to tma lately?#anyway VERY tempted to record this seems i'm a decent voice impressionist and i have the right accent for the statement lmao

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thadelightfulone · 4 years ago

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All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it.

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink.

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again.

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants.

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love.

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less.

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there.

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book.

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research.

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood.

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes.

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik,

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor.

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome.

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him.

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What?

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man.

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe.

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp.

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now.

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet.

“Here goes nothing.”

---

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister?

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question.

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate?

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.”

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik.

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.”

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her.

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down.

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee.

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee.

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space.

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik,

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok.

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it.

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly. Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love.

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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mar-bluu · 4 years ago

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Hey @wishingforserendipity your @newsies-secretsanta here!! sorry for a few delays in posting, my computer decided to mess things up for me lol! you mentioned your favourite ship was sprace, so i wrote something for you!! (there also may or may not be a surprise at the end :3)

ship: sprace word count: 3375 warnings: a few swear words and i think thats it

The mattress groaned under his weight as Race lifted himself off the bed, heart pounding. There wouldn’t be much to be afraid of, you would think, at one of his closest friend’s house, but you’d be wrong. His hands were cold and clammy, knees shaking, and mind whirling. It was, in fact, the close friend in question who was the cause of all this. Not that he had any idea, of course. Here Race was, nearly losing his damn mind, while Spot fucking Conlon was sitting in the living room, completely and blissfully unaware of the hell he was going through.

Race had always had a good poker face, at least that’s what he liked to think. Spot, however, could recognise his tell from a mile off. A small press of his lips, gently rolling them between his teeth was a dead giveaway for Spot every single time, and within the last twelve hours, Race had been over, Spot had seen it a million and one times. And it wasn’t just the subtle press that clued him in on Race’s inner thoughts, the constant restlessness- tapping on his legs, eyes flicking around the room, whispering under his breath- it was enough to make Spot himself nervous. But, he considered himself a good host, and more importantly a good friend, and nothing was going to stop him from making Race as comfortable as he possibly could.

Tip-toeing down the hall, Race peered out into the living room, watching Spot curled up with a blanket on the couch, fixated on typing away on his laptop. Holding his breath, Race padded into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and cracking the fridge, pouring himself a glass of water as quietly as possible. His head was pounding Race raised the glass to his cracked lips, letting the water soothe his dry throat when-

“Is everything okay?”

Race jumped a foot in the air with a small yelp, clutching desperately at the glass in his hand and spun around. Spot was turned to face over the back of the couch, arms raised slightly in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry- but uh, are you okay? This is your eighth glass of water in twenty minutes, you’ve been out to grab three extra blankets and four pillows.” He straightened himself a little more on the couch. “Is the guest room uncomfortable?”

“No!” Race took a quick step forward toward the bench, eyes wide. “No,” he repeated, a little calmer, clearing his throat. “The room’s fine, everything’s fine it’s just…” He trailed off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Weird sleeping in a house that’s not yours?” Spot finished hesitantly, cocking his head a little to the side. Race nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. Yeah. He thought, trying to ignore the way the light highlighted the angular features of Spot’s face. Let’s go with that.

Lies. Spot gave a small smile as Race excused himself back to the guest bedroom. He was lying. Spot didn’t know what to feel. Angry at the blatant untruths he had given him? Or hurt that Race felt that he couldn’t tell him the truth? Spot settled back onto the couch, hands resuming their position hovering over the keyboard, but the words didn’t want to work anymore so he sighed and placed his head in his hands. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, a little voice whispered, its words cold and poisonous.

He doesn’t want to be here.

Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, fixing his eyes on the wall ahead.

He doesn’t want to be near you.

Spot had ignored this voice a hundred times before, and he would ignore it another hundred if he had to.

Why do you think he’s been acting like this? He’s distancing himself from you. He hates you.

Spot stood up, digging his nails into his palm as he tried to force the voice out. As much as he hated to admit it, that one stung. But he had to remind himself that it was nonsense, that it was just an exaggeration fabricated by his imagination. He knew it wasn’t true. Probably. He sighed once more. Spot wasn’t sure why, but the thought of losing Race hurt him. Like really hurt him. More than he thought it would. He and Race felt so entwined with each other that Spot feared if he lost Race, he would lose a piece of himself. And just like that, the icy voice was back, louder and harsher than before, and Spot shook his arms out as he stepped into the kitchen, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to get rid of them. He picked up a glass of his own, filling it halfway with water. Maybe Race had the right idea trying to drown his uneasiness.

He tried to stay away. He tried to go back to bed, to close his eyes, roll over and go to sleep, he really did. But here he was, laying on the couch, heart hammering so fast he thought he it was going to burst through his chest, Spot’s fingers tugging softly but rhythmically through his hair. He had tried, and he had failed. Race stared straight up at the ceiling, butterflies swirling in his stomach as Spot’s thick fingers brushed through his curls. Spot was humming quietly, still tapping away on his laptop with his free hand, and Race wanted to throw up or pass out, or maybe both. His eyes flicked over to Spot’s face, half-hoping to catch his eye. However, this only made him feel a little guilty, for some reason, so he looked away, ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Race closed his eyes and. tried to forget that it was Spot fucking Conlon who had his hand in his hair, but even with his vision dark, images of the handsome guy he was leaning on danced on the back of his eyelids, playing like an old film reel. Oh, how Race longed to open his eyes and be able to wrap Spot up in his arms, to feel the warmth of his body, toned chest and arms pressed tightly against him. How his heart ached to reach up and press his lips to Spot’s, and how it hurt him so that he couldn’t. The boy in question shifted slightly, stretching his legs out, and Race had a brief flash of panic that his head was too heavy on Spot’s lap. But his worry was short-lived, as Spot settled back into the couch, humming quietly to himself as he thought, fingers ghosting over the keyboard. Race felt a little stupid for the intense spike of cold fear, but then again, he reminded himself, anxiety is often stupid. And just like that, his brain jumped from worry, right back to Spot, his body heat providing such a comfortable, cushiony place for Race’s head. He bit back a small yawn, one that reminded him of the reason he was here in the first place; to “actually relax and try to get some sleep,” as Spot put it. However, Race had never been less relaxed in his entire life. If I’m keeping Spot up, he supposed, I should at least try to stick to the purpose of this. So, he closed his eyes, adjusted himself, and took a deep breath in.

But instead of sleep, the only thing his brain latched onto was the smell of honey, cigarettes, and lavender.

Spot.

There was no way he could sleep now. The scent filled his nose, attacking his every sense. God, how he loved that smell. He loved the way it was so soothing to him, how he could recognise it anywhere and have his face light up. And he loved how it clung to him, the threads of his clothes providing a lingering sense of comfort even when he wasn’t with Spot himself.

Race screwed his eyes up tighter, trying to block it from his mind, wipe the small smile forming off his face, but with no avail. He was still completely overwhelmed with thoughts of Spot. Every sight, every smell, every sound, every touch, it only reminded him of the dak haired boy, and it was driving him crazy. How soft his hair was, how his rough, calloused hands fit so snuggly, so naturally, in Race’s, how he felt so safe when Spot hugged him, as if nothing or no one could hurt him while wrapped in his arms. Race’s head was whirling now, spinning with an almost paralysing effect. And then, in the midst of all this unruly, untamed chaos, spoke a voice.

Kiss him.

It echoed through his mind, silencing all other noise.

Kiss him.

It sounded like such a simple thing to do, like there wasn’t a million and one things preventing him.

Kiss him.

Race took another deep breath in. he couldn’t... could he?

Kiss him.

And what if he did? What was the worst that could happen? He could ruin his friendship with Spot for good. But honestly, Race didn’t know what would hurt him more, losing one of his closest friends, or never being able to be with him the way he longed to.

Kiss him.

His breath caught in his throat and time seemed to slow as Race felt the muscles in his arm move up slowly, reaching to cup Spot’s face. He tried to go through with it, but it seemed like his soul had left his body, watching his own actions from afar. He tried, watching as his fingers flexed gently, itching to brush over Spot’s soft skin.

He tried.

Just as his hand neared the corner of his jaw, Spot turned, small, confused frown lacing his features when Race snatched his hand back. “Uh- did you need something, Race?” Spot questioned hesitantly. Race shook his head stiffly and rapidly.

“Nope! All good!” he replied. Spot opened his mouth to continue but Race cut him off. “There’s no need to worry about me,” he chuckled slightly. “just- just forget I’m even here.” Spot clamped his jaw shut, and paused slightly, frown deepening as he gave a short nod, turning back to his bright screen. Race let out a long, slow exhale.

He tried, and he failed.

Spot didn’t know why he’d done it, he just saw Race come back out from the bedroom once more, and before he knew it, words were flying out of his mouth. Race had stared back at him, a perfect deer-in-headlights impression, cheeks glowing bright, visible even from where Spot was seated as he patted his lap. Race had cast a quick glance back at the guest bedroom, but hesitantly stumbled his way over, and now here they were. Spot chewing on the inside of his cheek, unseeing eyes scanning his laptop screen, processing exactly none of the information shown, as the other boy lay rigidly against him, Spot stroking his hair softly. He didn’t know why he’d done it, or why Race’s weight against his leg felt so normal, felt so right, but he did know he wanted more. Spot bit down harder on his cheek, feeling his heart quicken and energy crackle through his veins, but he forced himself to remain still, lest he disturbed Race. This was to get him to relax, remember? Spot scoffed to himself. It’s not like he was relaxed to begin with, Race had been stiff as a board from the moment his head came in contact with Spot He sighed, fingers still toying with Race’s curls, he just hoped his legs were comfortable.

Spot closed his eyes in frustration. It had just started to take a small turn up, and he had ruined it! He cursed himself mentally. Race had gently cozied himself again Spot, and he hadn’t been settled for even a minute when he couldn’t help himself and glance over, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Race was right back to his rigid state. Spot ran his tongue over his teeth, the failure of his- admittedly- half-baked idea annoying him to no end. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to scream, to yell, to whine, to plead for this to work, for something to work! What kind of friend was he if he couldn’t even help Race relax enough to sleep? He was confused, a little hurt, but mainly confused. He felt… weird. He couldn’t quite place what his emotions were doing, but it was weird. There was a small twinge that stabbed into his chest, a cold blade of pain that got worse as Spot glanced down at the still obviously uncomfortable Race. He looked away, breath hitching in his throat as his mind raced. He decided to chalk it up to lack of sleep. He continued to brush his fingers through Race’s hair, and steeling his nerves, he glanced back down at the boy splayed across his lap. His golden hair was messy, tracks from Spot’s hand creating little peaks like fine hills, delicate freckles dotted soft cheeks, creating a small speckled trail down to chapped lips, and Spot felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Race’s face, his eyes, or his lips. His hands twitched, itching to move from Race’s hair down to his cheek, and his heart rung loudly in his ears. He sighed, oh how he could just lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

What?

Spot paused, brain finally catching up with what his overflowing thoughts had spewed. He didn’t know why his thoughts had spun themselves like that. It’s because he’s my friend. He rationalised. I want to kiss him in… in a friend way. Yeah. Yeah, that made sense, right? Just a quick, friendly, kiss to his forehead. Or his cheek. Or his lips. Or-

Oh.

He knew why he had thought, and said, and done those things. Maybe it wasn’t in a ‘friend way’.

“Spot?” came the quiet voice of Race. “Something wrong?” Spot’s eyes flicked down to meet Race’s, panic pricking at the top of his spine. He hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he?

“No?” he replied, cocking his head, as he tried to keep his composure. “Why?” Race pressed his lips together, averting his eyes down to the side of the couch.

“Oh, it was just that…” he trailed off with a small gesture to his hair. Spot looked down, amid of all his thinking, he had stopped running his fingers through Race’s hair.

“Ah,” he nodded slowly. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“You don’t have to apologise!” Race lifted his head, half sitting up. “Just wondered if I was too heavy.” Spot waved his hand dismissively, moving his hand down to Race’s shoulder.

“Not at all, lie back down if you want, and I can keep playing?” Race shook his head quickly, swinging his legs over the couch. He pressed his lips together again.

“I really should go to bed, I’ve kept you up longer than I should.” Spot sighed, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress a groan of annoyance, he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Okay,” he said looking up at Race, who was turned away from him now, “What is up with you?”

Race froze, back still to Spot. “Wh- what do you mean?” there was a loud sigh from behind him, and a creak of weight shifting from the couch.

“C’mon.” A hand on his shoulder gently turned him around. “You can’t lie to me. Something’s been bothering you from the moment you got here, and it’s not because you’re out of your house.”

“I-“ Race opened and closed his mouth, gasping like a fish out of water as he searched in vain for words that wouldn’t come. His hands shook lightly and involuntarily, heart pounding in his throat, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Spot closed his eyes, bringing his hands off of Race’s shoulders.

“Look.” He said, voice low, “You’re my friend, and above all things, I want you to be comfortable. And if there’s something I’ve done- if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can organise another place for you to stay, I’m sure Albert can-”

“No!” Race’s Eyes widened, holding his hands out in front of him. “No, it’s not that!”

“Really Race?” Spot deadpanned. “Then what is it? What’s with all the restlessness? The uneasiness? The lying?” Race pressed his lips together nervously.

“Lying? No, Spot, I-” but Spot beat him to it.

“I just want you to be straight with me. What’s wrong?” Race swallowed thickly, trying desperately to think one single, cohesive thought that explained away everything, set it all right, but what came out was;

“I love you!”

Well that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Race clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes the size of dinner plates, face looking like he just face-planted onto the sun, as Spot stared back at him.

Stop! He cried internally, anxiety alarm bells ringing in his head. What am I doing!?

But he didn’t stop. In fact, his brain kept whirring and words kept pouring out of his mouth. “That’s what’s wrong okay? And- and now I’m living with you, at least temporarily, and every time I see you, I turn bright-fucking-red!”

Spot was still standing fixed to the floor, expressionless, and Race felt his anxiety rise. How was he just standing there? Here he was, pouring his heart out to him- albeit semi-unintentionally- and Spot completely stone-faced! Oh god, what am I doing!? But he still continued to speak.

“I can’t think right around you! My words get all muddled up and I get butterflies in my stomach, and I can’t even sleep cause every time I close my eyes a- all I can see is your damn, stupid smile!” His eyes stung as fought back tears with all his strength.

Still, Spot hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a thing. Race balled his hands into fists, nails biting into the soft flesh of his palm, words still spilling out of his mouth.

“Honestly, sometimes I can’t stand even being in the same room as you, cause all I wanna do is run up and pull you into a kiss!” Hot tears began to spill from his eyes, leaving damp tear tracks down his cheeks.

“And- and it hurts me that I can’t!” Race wiped away the tears furiously, chest heaving as he fought to keep his emotions under control. The two of them stood there for a few seconds in a thick, tension-filled silence, only broken by the occasional muffled sob from Race.

“Well?” He spat, his attempt at anger doing a poor job of covering up his fear. ”Are you gonna say something? Anything!?”

Spot remained silent.

Race swore to himself, bringing his hands up and gripping at his hair. “Forget it.” He sighed, dragging his hands back down his face, clutching at the neck of his shirt. “That was stupid, I never should’ve-”

But he was cut off. Cut off by something warm, something solid.

Spot had stepped forward, grabbing Race’s wrists, and pulled him into his chest, silencing him with a kiss. Race closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of Spot’s chapped lips against his own. Spot moved one hand up and delicately cupped Race’s jaw, brushing his thumb over his smooth skin. They broke apart after several seconds, and now, it was Race’s turn to be speechless, Spot taking his turn to speak. “I-” he began, pulling his hands back to nervously fidget with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m just kinda shocked.” Race laughed.

“You and me both.” Spot chuckled too, Race cautiously reaching for his hands again, smiling faintly. They stared at each other for a while longer, pressed flush chest to chest, both of their faces still glowing softly red.

“So…” Race mumbled after a second “Where do we go from this?” Spot hummed, thinking to himself as he stepped back towards the couch, sitting down and pulling Race onto his lap.

“I dunno,” he started, a half-hidden yawn cutting him off, Race following suit a split-second later, burying his face in Spot’s neck. “But would you stay with me tonight?”

So yeah! hope that was okay (sorry about the length i got kinda carried away :’3) also:

#zip it jae #happy holidays!!#hope this is okay :3 #also remember to stay hydrated and eat something if you havent in a while!#spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #newsies #jae writes #also! if youre reading these there is exactly 0 obligation to read all that there is A LOT of words lol #like too many probably #lkdfjgksdgb anyways #morris delancey #jae draws

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